


Pros and Consequences

by Jerevinan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cat and Mouse, Con Artists, Crime Solving, Crimes & Criminals, Eventual Romance, Inspired by White Collar, Kidnapping, Light BDSM, M/M, Slow Burn, Spanking, White Collar Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 59,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan
Summary: Noctis Caelum is a known art forger and con man. Agent Ignis Scientia works for the Lucis Bureau of Investigation, in white collar crimes.Both men are smart, but it is only a matter of time before a certain LBI agent catches up with Noctis. As it turns out, however, getting caught was part of Noctis' plan all along. As Noctis searches for his lost father, who went into hiding long ago, he works alongside Ignis as his criminal informant.Laws are bent and sometimes broken, but the team has a high success rate with their cases. Noctis often digs deeper and deeper into a place he can't return from, and Ignis just might willingly follow him there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a long time since I've uploaded any fics! Here's a new one from me. I had a lot of encouragement to write this, and a lot of patience from everyone to finally get back to posting fics. Thank you so much to those people - this is dedicated to you!
> 
> Some of the adult themes have been tagged early as caution for readers, but they won't show up until much, much later.

“This time, he hit the Citadel and stole an artifact.” 

Ignis doesn’t have to ask who, and his immediate thoughts slip to one artifact in particular. “It isn’t the Ring of the Lucii?”

Aranea snorts without turning away from her computer. The clatter of tapped keys echoes through the Lucis Bureau of Investigations white collar crimes office. Not one agent doesn’t cast a wary glance in Ignis’ direction, but they pretend to be involved in their own cases.

When it comes to Noctis Caelum, though, all those crimes are slapped on Ignis’ desk. He is considered the “expert” when it comes to this particular con artist. There hasn’t been any news on Noctis for months; now it seems he is back in Insomnia and aiming high.

Worst of all, he’s _succeeding_.

It may be only one advantageous hit since his reemergence, but the Citadel is a high-security building with guards and advanced systems that no single person could hack alone. Obtaining the Ring of Lucii—one of the country’s most precious artifacts—is no easy feat. Nothing is more heavily guarded, aside from the remnants of the past royal family that once ruled over Lucis before the monarchy was dissolved and fairer institutions put in place. Noctis must have had help, but Ignis doesn’t know all of his criminal acquaintances. 

Why would Noctis go after it, though? He aimed for small targets before, making him a low priority criminal. His case has sat in the basement of the bureau for almost a year, with no blips on the radar. Clarus insisted Ignis move on to other, more dangerous criminals when they realized the trail had gone cold. 

Ignis peers over at his boss’ office door. As if summoned by the news that letting Noctis Caelum go for a few months has bitten him in the ass, Clarus steps out and does a two-fingered wave that says “get in here” in Ignis’ direction.

As soon as the door is closed, Clarus flips closed the blinds overlooking the other agents—who have all been watching Ignis either directly or indirectly—and begins to pace the floor. His hands are on his hips. 

“I suppose you’ve heard.”

“I have. How do we know it’s Caelum? Did he leave some kind of signature?”

Clarus pauses at his desk and flips open a file. He hands over a stack of photographs from the CCTV at the Citadel. Many of them show a man in all-black clothing and a cap over his hair, wearing sunglasses, as he slips through every system with uncanny precision.

“Footprints left at the scene are his shoe size, and the person in the video is the same height as Caelum. He also left a note.”

The last photo is of a typed message in courier new:

Hey Dad

This is what you wanted  
Come find me

\- N.

“N is for Noctis, isn’t it?” Clarus sighs and begins pacing again. He runs a hand over his stubbly chin. “Do you know who his father is?”

“No. There’s no information about him in the system. We don’t have his real name, only a few of his aliases.” Ignis grimaces when he thinks about some of the others Noctis goes by. ‘Neal Gar’ being among the worst, and ‘Prince Lucis’ one of the more flippant and disrespectful.

“Damn.” Clarus taps a finger against the photographs. “I want you back on his case. No one knows more about him than you do.” 

Ignis wouldn’t call himself a professional, but he does know a lot more about Noctis Caelum than anyone else in the bureau.

“I’ve never caught him.”

“You’ve come close once, and you’re the Noctis Dictionary.” 

“I don’t think I like that nickname.” Ignis decides not to comment on the other part, which he disagrees with. While others translate the events of that evening to Noctis almost being captured before slipping out of Ignis’ grasp, Ignis can only see it as a failure on his part. He feels as if he let Noctis get away because of his own inadequacy as an agent. 

“We have to get the Ring of the Lucii back,” says Clarus sternly. “The media and the city already know about this. Word spread quickly earlier this morning.” 

Ignis nods. “I’ll do what I can. May I examine these further?” He holds up the photos.

Clarus closes the folder and hands it over to him. “It’s your case now. Take whatever you want. Nyx is in evidence, trying to file the paperwork to bring up the rest of the stuff we have on Noctis. Get your team together and head to the scene. I need you to hunt Caelum down.”

Ignis takes one final look at the note before slipping the photographs back into their file and returning to his desk. It adds some perspective to this case. Noctis went after the biggest target he could to get his father’s attention. Whoever this mysterious man is, he wants the ring. The message implies that much. 

The government doesn’t appear to have a lead on Noctis’ real name or his background. Ignis managed to string together a list of aliases Noctis commonly uses, but none of them are in the system—in fact, three of his five names are blatantly fake. But whenever Noctis has forged something, he cannot resist putting his signature on his work. Pride is a fatal flaw for criminals, especially artistic ones. 

Noctis always includes ‘N.C.’ somewhere, even if it requires some brainwork or a microscope to find it. When he copied the famous Altissian Nights painting, he hid his initials in the folds of a dancing woman’s skirt. Sometimes it is written with a single horsehair stroke on a bond, but it is always there. 

If only they could find out more about Noctis’ family, but there’s nothing documented. There are thousands of people with the last name Caelum around the country, but even skimming through birth records and genealogy, Ignis can’t find anything that suggests any relation to Noctis. The last name even belongs to a family corporation who owns hotels and brands of crisps sold on every convenience store shelf, but there has never been a connection between the family and Noctis. Ignis won’t rule out the possibility that ‘Caelum’ is taken from a grandparent or relative much further back, but he needs more information on Noctis’ parents. As far as the government is concerned, Noctis Caelum has only existed for a few years.

“That him?” asks Aranea as Ignis pulls out the photos on his desk. She twists around her computer and stares at the evidence.

“More than likely.” He hands her the photo of the note. “What do you make of that?” As he waits, he steeples his hands and wishes someone would bring him an expresso. 

As if summoned, Gladiolus appears beside him and begins passing out Mog Stop coffee. It is convenience store quality, but it will do. Anything will do at this point—even the sludge the machine in the break room churns out.

“Thank you, Gladio.” Ignis takes a long drink, regardless of the heat of the liquid. It has had some time to cool between the store a few blocks away and the downtown bureau, thankfully, and he doesn’t burn his tongue.

Gladiolus brings his own chair over after he finishes distributing drinks. He sets an unclaimed cup on Ignis’ desk.

“Where’s Nyx?”

“Clarus sent him to evidence. Maybe you could go down there and help? I would like him to come with us to the scene.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Gladiolus nods over at the photo in Aranea’s hand. “What’s that?”

“The note he left.”

“Why’d he sign it with just ‘N’?” asks Aranea, handing the photo to Gladiolus.

“His father might not know who ‘N.C.’ is,” says Ignis. “He doesn’t normally leave his initials on his work unless he’s forging something. When he steals something, he tries not to let us know about it—we have no idea what all he has taken.”

“I guess this could be Caelum. It seems like a big target for him this time, and I’m surprised he succeeded. Guess he must really want dear old dad to pay attention.”

“Maybe he’s feeling guilty and wants his old man to give him an overdue ass whooping,” says Gladiolus, handing the photo back to Ignis. He stands up. “I’ll fetch Nyx. Willing to bet the paperwork for evidence won’t process ‘till tomorrow anyway.”

Aranea raises an eyebrow and watches Gladiolus leave. Once he’s gone, she turns back to Ignis.

“Dismissing Gladio’s poor taste in jokes…” she begins. “You think Caelum’s dad might be a criminal, too?”

“Another thief? Makes sense, if the Ring of the Lucii was one of his targets. I suppose that’s another question for Citadel security.” Ignis has a lot of questions, and none of them will be answered easily.

When it comes to Noctis Caelum, nothing ever is.

~*~

The Citadel never fails to impress Ignis. As a child on field trips, he visited the famous establishment from time to time. Tours only cover a few sections of the building, out of way of its daily government functions. The old throne room and the lobby before it, along with the old rooms of the royal family and chambers that hold artifacts from a time long past are open to the public during tours that run from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday. 

Nyx talks to some of the security guards. He knows one of them—a fellow named Libertus who is helpful in every way possible to get them whatever security footage they need. He explains in detail what kind of systems the building runs on, too. Multiple ones, all offline to prevent tampering.

Gladiolus talks with the LBI agents who were on the scene. Evidence is still being collected and sorted into bags, all now under Ignis’ team’s careful watch. It will be brought back to the bureau later.

Ignis and Aranea focus their attention on the tour guides, asking them questions about any suspicious activity.

“Did anyone seem unusually disinterested in the tours while taking them?” asks Ignis. “Anyone that wandered off at all?”

“Aside from kids?” One of the young tour guides snorts. “A few, I guess. It happens.”

“We always have wanderers,” says the woman beside him. Her nails are painted a lovely shade of deep blue that match the bow at the top of her blouse. “Old people or young kids are always falling behind or getting lost, and there are always a few teens who want to be anywhere but here. Had a group of them last week that tried to sneak up to the skywalk.”

“Isn’t the skywalk part of the tour?” Ignis is pretty sure he has been across it a handful of times during his youth.

“It’s been under construction for a few weeks now.”

Ignis lifts an eyebrow. “Do you know the name of the company that was hired?”

“You’ll have to ask the head of the treasury and finances department,” says another tour guide—a much older man with a puffy beard. “They’re on the second floor. They would know who they were writing the check for.”

“Thank you.” Ignis looks to Aranea. “Would you go up there and see what you can find out?”

Aranea nods before turning on the heel of her boots and making her way toward the elevators. With that taken care of, Ignis resumes his line of questioning, but he doubts the tour guides have anything more to offer him. They work short hours and are likely underpaid for the stress of herding citizens with wanderlust around the building. Now they’re forced to stay well beyond their shifts to hear repeated questions from law enforcement. Their tours—if they reopen tomorrow—will be hell when all the people disgruntled from not being able to tour today show up with harsh criticisms. 

Ignis feels a swell of gratitude for his job. It is never easy, but at least enjoys the work. Even on days like today, where he is sure to bring his case home and to bed with him. It will be like that for several days to come. He needs to make a note to text Luna and let her know he won’t return until late. 

After some chatting, Libertus brings Gladiolus, Nyx, and Ignis to the room where the ring was held. It was in a strong glass case—nothing easy to cut. Sensors on the pedestal for the ring set off an alarm if large stores of heat touch it. A human hand would more than suffice to send the alarm, but they never went off the previous night. Cameras placed around the room were left untampered.

“We don’t know what happened to the guard,” says Libertus. “There’s supposed to be one outside at all times. They’re not even allowed a restroom break unless someone’s there to replace them. When we looked at the schedule, someone had typed in a fake name.”

“Someone posed as a guard, then.” Gladiolus grunts and examines the case. “An awful lot of security to get by, and all for this little ring.”

“To the people of Lucis, it’s the foundation of the country,” says Ignis. “Much like some of the pages of our early constitutions. Those are kept in air-tight containers.”

Gladiolus whistles and shakes his head. “Damn. Bet the old kings and queens never had this kind of security protecting their asses.”

“Not likely.” Ignis lets out a soft laugh. “But the ring they wore for the greater part of two centuries fascinates the people. It’s worth billions.”

“Someone will buy it. They always do.”

“I don’t think Caelum is planning to sell it.” While only a hunch, the Ring of the Lucii is far too important to hand over to a buyer. The power of being able to hold even illegal ownership of the ring will also be too great a temptation for someone as prideful as Noctis. 

Not to mention, if it’s a lure for his father, there is no reason for Noctis to part with it before a reunion. 

“What do you think he’s going to do with it?” asks Gladiolus.

“I don’t know. It would help if we knew his father’s name—or Caelum’s real one—and why this father of his wants the ring.” 

“Guess we’ve got a lot of research to do.” Gladiolus sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Indeed.” Ignis pulls out his phone to text Luna and let her know she might as well give his dinner to Umbra and Pryna. It’s likely he won’t be home until midnight, and only then to get a shower and sleep before he is back at work early the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

Noctis rolls the ring around in his palm. Stealing this tiny trinket is the reason for the badly drawn likeness of his face all over the media right now, and it had better be worth the exposure. There hasn’t been any channel of communication to him from Regis, but there’s still time. Word is still spreading about his near-impossible feat. 

Artistically, the ring is gorgeous. Tales say the crystal nestled at its heart come from the gods, from another world. Scans of the ring over the years have stated that it is indeed comprised of foreign compounds unknown on this planet, even the alloy that surrounds the chamber of the crystal.

Whenever Noctis looks at it, it gives him an unsettling feeling in his breast. 

“You gotta come now, Dad,” mutters Noctis. He slips the ring into a velvet box and stores it back in his jacket pocket. He can’t leave it alone for one moment. Losing it would be devastating, especially now that it is known who stole the ring. He needs a new alias and to remember his wigs if he’s going to move about the city. The bounty on his head will have everyone looking for him.

He’ll hold onto the ring a few more days before returning it. He has a feeling he knows who to send it to, too, since this case has reached the LBI. Up until a year ago, Agent Scientia chased him across the country. After barely escaping from the top of a six-story apartment building, Noctis went underground for a while. Laid low in Lestallum and Cape Caem and did some investigating of his own on Regis. The past few months meant the dust settled over his tracks.

If Noctis is honest, his choice to return the ring through Agent Scientia is a bit of a tease. He likes Ignis, for what he knows about him—and he suspects he knows more about the agent than the other way around. 

Ignis Scientia lives with his friend, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, in a three-story brownstone wedged on a narrow street. Their backyard is sizeable enough for a garden and for Luna’s two dogs to romp. Noctis scouted the place out of curiosity once, but he never went inside. He has never learned the names of the dogs, either.

Noctis knows just about everything else there is to know, however. Agent Scientia grew up an only child with two ordinary parents who worked low-grade jobs in the government. The family had enough money to send their child to college and offer him the best education, and they never went without necessities. But when it came to wants, it meant scraping the bottom of the purse and turning up more lint than free change. While his parents live a modest life in a small house in the suburbs on the other side of town, Ignis put his degree to good use. After graduating top of the class, he began his training in law enforcement. 

He is well liked by colleagues. Luna seems fond of him, as do her dogs. The two aren’t married and couldn’t possibly be a couple. Before leaving Insomnia, Noctis figured out Luna’s routine. At least once every weekend, she goes out with her girlfriend. Noctis doesn’t know the name of the pretty brunette who can rock a leather jacket, but he often used to spot them around the neighborhood where Luna lives, holding hands and exchanging soft kisses.

Unlike his roommate, Ignis likes to stay home when he’s not at work. He can often be found at the library, checking out enormous stacks of books and returning them two weeks earlier than necessary. His GreatReads page online shows that he finishes most of them but lives by the famous adage that life is too short to waste time on bad books. 

Most surprisingly, Agent Scientia also logs into King’s Knight for his daily bonuses and plays it about an hour before bed. (Noctis has a special phone just to play King’s Knight with him.) Another notable fact about Ignis: he is a man with a routine. 

He smells good, too, from the one face-to-face encounter Noctis remembers with him. Ignis is handsome. Best to be chased by a dashing young LBI agent than a crusty old one. If they weren’t enemies, Ignis Scientia is the kind of guy Noctis would take to dinner at one of the finest restaurants in Insomnia.

They’re only two years apart—not even quite that—but they live worlds apart. While Noctis can pull off a good suit, he prefers the luxury of a pair of slacks and an oversized dress shirt splattered in paint. The aesthetic does him a few favors with any ladies he is trying to seduce during cons, too—he needs all the help he can get, since he is otherwise an awkward mess. It took years of practice to pull off what he can do now. There was a time when he couldn’t successfully slip a wallet out of a pocket, but now he can strip the cash off half a city block before anyone notices their money is missing.

Weskham trained him pretty well. 

Now if only Noctis’ hard work would pay off. He has never been known for patience. 

To kill some time, Noctis scoops up his King’s Knight phone and logs in. He doesn’t expect Ignis will have played lately. No, his work will keep him busy for a while. But Noctis doesn’t want to seem like he’s been distracted during those same days and cause suspicion. It’s unlikely this phone will be traced back to him easily—it’s under Cid’s family plan. It is the only smartphone he owns. All the others are cheap burners he can discard at a moment’s notice.

One of Noctis’ other phones starts buzzing on the table. He doesn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Damn, kid, what were you thinking? Are you nuts?” Cor’s voice is a mixture of impressed and annoyed.

“Did you get a new phone?”

“Yeah. Can’t be too careful. Your line’s still secure, right?” Cor, ever the suspicious one. 

“You think word will get to Dad?”

“If anything could…” 

Noctis finishes his battle in King’s Knight and logs off. He sinks back onto his hotel bed and sighs. Nase Fisher. That’s it. He’ll use that name. It has been in his head for a few months.

“You still there, kid?” Cor sounds even more annoyed now.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“You better keep thinking, and fast. You still in town?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you ought to head to Alstor for a bit. Rent a cabin and lay low while this blows over. If word about your dad comes through, I’ll let you know.”

“No way!” Noctis sits up again. Best he lowers his voice—even in a nice hotel, the walls are never as thick as he’d like them to be. He has to be careful with his wording, too. “I’m not leaving until I hear something.”

“He’s probably not even in the country, kid.”

Noctis blows a raspberry. “Would you stop calling me a kid? I’m twenty-six.”

“Sure, your Highness.”

“That’s even worse.” He doesn’t vocalize it, but the title sounds more like he’s the son of a big crime family. Which rings a little too true these days.

“Do me a favor, would you?”

“Depends on what the favor is.”

“Stop looking for him.”

Noctis bites back a protest. If he weren’t living out of a hotel, he would argue. But as it stands, he needs to find new accommodations. The gift card he bought in order to make online reservations only has enough money left in it for another two nights. After that, he’ll either need to stay at Cid’s or try another hotel. He isn’t about to take Cor’s advice on the cabin. If there’s any chance Regis shows up in Insomnia, he wants to be here. 

His father will surely come back for him, right?

“I gotta go,” says Noctis, and he hangs up the phone to show Cor he has no intention of listening to a word of his advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Noctis knows a stalkerish amount of information about Ignis, because he figures it’s good to know everything about the man who is hunting him down. 
> 
> Can you spot the slightly paraphrased Oscar Wilde quote? :D


	3. Chapter 3

Ignis suppresses a yawn and shifts in his chair. He has been sitting down too long at the office and can feel it to his tailbone. Around him are several files. He has combed through them all over the past few days. Nothing has given him a clue as to Noctis Caelum’s life before he became a criminal.

“I think I need a walk,” says Ignis, glancing over at Aranea. “Care to join me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Aranea lets out an unflattering grunt of discomfort as she stands and stretches her back. “My legs feel like I’ve forgotten how to use them. This is almost as bad as sitting in a car for a few hours during a stakeout.”

“Worse than the surveillance van?” If there is one place most agents dread, it is that one. 

Gladiolus glances up from his desk. “What’s wrong with the van?”

“It smells like sweaty men and day-old cheeseburgers,” says Aranea. “What _isn’t_ wrong with the van?”

“It hasn’t broken down,” pipes up Ignis optimistically. “Which is quite unfortunate for anyone whose case requires it.”

“At least that’s not us,” mumbles Aranea, hobbling over to him. “Shit, my leg’s asleep.”

Their walk doesn’t last long. Before they make it to the door, the bureau’s mail deliverer steps inside the office.

“Agent Scientia!” The man reaches into his rolling cart and hands over a small bubble envelope. “That came in this morning for you.”

Ignis doesn’t recognize the handwriting. There is no return address, either, which makes it all the more suspicious. It can’t hold any risk—all mail to the bureau undergoes a scanning process. As the mail carrier rolls along to other desks, Ignis carefully rips into the package with the teeth of his house key. 

Inside is a tiny cardboard box, and when Ignis delicately lifts the lid, he gasps.

Aranea peers over his shoulders and echoes his gasp. “Is that…?”

“I think it is.”

~*~

Clarus sends Ignis home before an appraiser can look at the ring. 

“Get some rest,” is all he says when Ignis tries to protest. 

Luna sits with Ignis for a few hours, flipping through channels absentmindedly. She tries to distract him with fun tales about the wedding she is planning while they sip on wine. The tales are not so funny as horrifying—she seems to have found the worst bride and groom on Eos.

“They want real gold on their wedding cake,” says Luna. “Three tiers, all with gold-tipped roses. The bride wants gold and blue. If anything looks too yellow, she faints.”

“Real fainting?” asks Ignis, splitting his attention between his friend and the ring.

“Of course it’s all a show, and she could use a little help with her acting skills. Crowe says I should knock her in the head with a crowbar if she wants to pass out so badly.” Luna stretches out and lets out a little scream. “Someone save me! The groom is worse, if you can believe it.”

“How can he be worse than the bride?”

“I have to find a Zu plume for the quill. He saw the black chocobo feathers I selected and started to hyperventilate. Claimed he was allergic. If you’re allergic to one bird, wouldn’t you be allergic to them all?”

“I can’t really say.”

“I asked him how I was supposed to find a Zu feather. Do you want to know his answer?”

“Let me guess…” Ignis taps his chin. “He wants you to hire a hunter to climb Ravatogh?”

Luna nods, the tears gathering in her eyes. Ignis reaches over and gives her three pats on her nearest hand.

“There, there. You could always hand them off to someone else.” 

“Would if I could, but it would look bad, and it might ruin my reputation among their friends and colleagues. I _need_ those networks.”

“I imagine any friend or colleague of theirs who doesn’t know they’re insane is just as bad, and you’re better off without their business.” Ignis takes a long sip of his wine. “Anyway, if no one wants to hire you anymore, I’ll support you.”

Luna shoots him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Ignis, but I doubt we could afford to keep this house on your salary alone.”

The house is under Luna’s name and Ignis merely pays a small sum of rent to occupy the third floor and share the first. If he took over the mortgage, his savings would dwindle away quickly. Luna was lucky enough to have inheritance that helped her purchase the house, but it is in a prestigious area of Insomnia. People pay ridiculous amounts of money for a real brownstone on a narrow street with old trees and cute backyard gardens.

“Maybe if I catch Caelum, I’ll be considered for a promotion. He did steal the Ring of the Lucii…”

“That makes him a higher priority criminal now?”

“One of the highest.”

Luna hums and squeezes her hands together in her excitement. “I can’t help but think he must be a charming man.”

“He’s a criminal, Luna. And Crowe doesn’t need competition.”

Luna giggles and collapses against Ignis, fingers brushing against the shoulder of his shirt. “The way you talk about him, I think you’re the one who doesn’t need the competition.”

“If I catch him, it won’t be for any reason but to see justice served.”

“Didn’t you say he was ‘attractive’ once?”

Ignis regrets some of the things he has told her about his cases and his past run-ins with criminals, including—maybe especially—Noctis Caelum. 

“I believe I said he _could_ be attractive, if he wasn’t such a cocky thief.”

Luna shakes her head, her ponytail swishing back and forth through the air. The smirk on her face annoys him, but he isn’t bothered by her reaction. What upsets him is he knows she’s _right_. 

Noctis lives in a different world from Ignis. His background is a mystery, which suggests a lack of structure in his childhood, and he has talents which he frequently abuses on criminal activities. How could Ignis ever be charmed by such poor choices?

He doesn’t have to dwell over his distaste for long. His phone rings, and the caller ID reads ‘Clarus’ across his screen.

“Hello?”

Clarus lets out a soft snort. “It’s the real ring.”

It takes a moment for Ignis to process this new revelation. He had been so certain the ring was a fake. How could it be real?

“Why would he return it?” asks Ignis, knowing Clarus is wondering the same thing.

“It’s _real?_ ” hisses Luna beside him.

“We need to figure that out.” Clarus pauses. “Tomorrow. Get some rest. Don’t stay up too late doing any research. You need to sit down with your team and figure this out. Let’s worry about capturing him, first. Even if the ring is safe and soon to be on its way back to the Citadel, who knows what Caelum has planned next.”

It certainly won’t look good on the bureau if they don’t find Noctis soon. It’ll be another crime unanswered for. The public will mostly be happy to have the ring back on display again, but the LBI needs to show anyone else who considers stealing it that justice will be served if they try.

“I’ll take the evening off,” says Ignis, knowing his brain won’t be filled with any other thoughts but Noctis Caelum. If only Luna could understand how much of his time Noctis consumes, she would know there’s no room for romance between an agent and the criminal he’s hunting down. Even if it is someone Ignis can admit is attractive.

“Good.” Clarus hangs up, and that leaves Ignis to Luna’s imploring gaze.

“Will you?” Luna tucks one hand under her chin, smiling.

“Will I what?”

“Take the evening off.”

Ignis sighs. “As best I can. Clarus is right—I need a clear head tomorrow. I hope you have an idea of how to keep me distracted.”

Luna picks up the remote and waves it. “We can watch Lucian Idol?”

“Oh, Astrals, another season of that rubbish?”

“Auditions, Ignis. Auditions.” She sings out the words, her grin widening.

Ignis needs no more temptation. “I’ll make popcorn.”

~*~

It takes another day of poring over Noctis’ files to make a breakthrough, and it is Aranea’s careful eye that catches the detail that unlocks everything for them.

“He doesn’t have a pattern when it comes to forging bonds, but I think I’ve found something,” says Aranea, sifting through photographs of art Noctis has allegedly stolen. 

Ignis, Gladiolus, and Nyx all lift their heads.

Aranea waves the photos around. “Almost all the art we can connect to him? It’s related to the Lucian monarchy. I thought it might be a matter of taste, but it explains why he took the ring.”

“It doesn’t explain why he gave it back,” says Gladiolus with a grunt.

Nyx hums and reaches across Ignis’ desk to grab a file. He flips through it before holding it up to everyone. It shows an image of a set of replica paintings that were taken. Ignis has always been stumped on why Noctis would take the prints, especially when the real versions hang on the walls of the Citadel, outside the throne room.

“Remember this?” asks Nyx.

“Yes.”

“Well, they were in the Citadel, too. A few decades ago, the king switched them out when his children were young. One of the boys, Prince Mors, had a tendency to scribble on the walls, and the king was worried about something happening to the originals. A lot of vases were packed away until the kids were older.” Nyx points out one of the pictures. “There is permanent marker on this one. The king had his son figured out. That’s why they were kept in a museum later.”

“Noctis could be interested in the history of the Lucian family.” Ignis takes the photo to examine it closer. The Astrals—at least in this version—have a spaghetti monster as company.

Ignis slaps a hand on his desk suddenly. The action draws the eyes of everyone in the office. After a moment, as everyone but his team drift back to their own work, Ignis explains.

“His alias, Prince Lucis? What if there’s some reality to that? We know the monarchy was dismantled violently. Prince Mors was a teenager when that happened, and his little sister not much younger. We know she turned up dead in Altissia a few years later—someone murdered her—but we don’t know what happened to Prince Mors.” 

Nyx leans back in his seat, fingers drumming on his desktop. “You think he could’ve settled down, had a family? Maybe Caelum is his descendant?”

“It would explain why Caelum is reaching out to his father, too. Maybe the ring is part of their heritage. But why return it? He wouldn’t want to let go of something his family considers to be rightfully theirs.”

“Unless he’s playing another angle?” suggests Nyx. “Manipulating us to find his father? If I had to choose between helping my family or keeping an artifact, I know what I would do.”

Ignis wags a finger at Nyx. “I think you might be on to something. I suggest we explore that possibility in order to reach out to him. If Caelum wants us, let him have us. We’ll be waiting.”

Now that they have an idea of what Caelum might be searching for, they formulate a plan. Ignis assigns Nyx to carry out the most critical part of their mission. First, the LBI fits Nyx with an expensive suit—reclaimed from a case, no doubt—and has him submerge into an old identity. Mixing Nyx’s charming looks with a loyal but blunt personality makes him the most appropriate for this case. He isn’t nearly as intimidating as Gladiolus or Aranea when confronted, either, maintaining his cool without jamming a heel into someone’s groin by the end of the night if he runs into trouble.

Ignis knows if anyone can handle the job, it is Nyx.

“I want you to send out word that Caelum’s father is looking for him. Send clues that hint a knowledge of his identity, but don’t reveal that Noctis’ father is a descendant of Prince Mors, either. We want to reach out to Caelum without putting him in harm’s way.” Ignis smooths his hands over the lapels of Nyx’s jacket before giving the outfit a soft pat of approval. 

“I think I can manage that.”

“I know you can.” 

Nyx smirks. “Think I can keep this suit once I’m done?”

“Not a chance. LBI property.” 

“Shame.” Nyx holds up an arm and examines the sleeve. “Guess it’s not really my style.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t look good.”

“Oh, I know I look good. It’ll be fun to wear this for a few days before I have to return it.”

That attitude is another reason Nyx has been picked for this mission. Aranea shuffles in dresses that aren’t her style and complains about getting “gussied up”, and even Gladiolus’ tolerance for such dress would wane after more than a single night. Nyx will make the best of it and maybe attempt to keep the suit in his closet a few more weeks before returning it to the bureau.

Nyx disappears for a couple of days after that. Slips into the skin of one of his aliases and uses his network to send out a message that supposedly comes from Noctis’ father. They have set up a specific location in which this mysterious father is to meet with his son. The location isn’t too conspicuous—something Ignis is sure won’t link to any law enforcement. Nyx’s alias owns a warehouse where he specializes in smuggling Citadel artifacts.

It is their only foot into the door with so few leads to go on. Everyone must rely on Nyx to navigate through the criminal world and phrase the wording to help make their bait more enticing to Noctis. 

What Ignis is relying on most is that Noctis will be desperate enough to take a risk even if he knows the meeting is a trap—that he puts family before caution.


	4. Chapter 4

It has not been any easy life for Noctis Caelum. All he wants to do is collect the pieces of his broken life and paste it to a board to resemble something that might’ve once been a family portrait. He will keep dropping hints until his father is lured back into the picture frame. 

Noctis wants to remember his father’s face, but he was eight the last time he saw the man whose facial hair and voice are all he has left in memory. Not long after Regis disappeared, Cor brought Noctis to Weskham to begin his training. His whole life was upturned. One moment, he had been a cheerful boy; the next, a kid training to steal and survive in a world that would hunt him down if they knew his truths. The passage of time has bled away his memory, like a roll of sun-exposed film.

Very few photographs exist of Regis. Cid has one—an old shot of the group at Cape Caem, leaning against the Regalia. It’s too blurry to make out the details of Regis’ face, which might be one reason the others let him keep it. Cor and Weskham destroyed all evidence of their connection to Regis, claiming that they were protecting Noctis. 

Even as an adult, they’ve never explained the person or people Noctis should be watching out for. Why Cor picked up Noctis from school one day and told him he had to change his name and couldn’t be Noctis for a while. There had been other men present as well. They weren’t police, but at the time, Noctis hadn’t known who or what the Lucian Marshals were—and why they were changing everything about his identity.

“You’re Neal Armaugh from now on, kid.”

And then Noctis was taken to Altissia, to live with Weskham for a while. He had to leave everything about his old life behind, including the picture albums and family photos. 

Noctis has a few memories of his father that have aided his search. It doesn’t help that Cid has a loose tongue, thanks to old age and nostalgia. If Cid hadn’t rambled about the “good ol’ days with yer dad”, Noctis would likely doubt some of his memories as truth. He remembers maps of genealogy and sitting on his father’s knee while Regis told him about their family. Playing with his plush carbuncle at the dinner table while his dad served the stuffed animal his own plastic toy meal at Noctis’ insistence. Regis chasing him at a slow pace in his leg brace while Noctis darted through the yard. 

Things were perfect for the first eight years of Noctis’ life—even without his mother, who Regis always talked about with fondness. Noctis doesn’t have any memories of Aulea, but he often thinks that if she hadn’t died when he was two, maybe their family would have stayed together. Noctis would have happily taken on another identity if it meant he could still be with his parents.

Cor and the others all swear it was necessary for Regis to leave.

Noctis doesn’t care if it was necessary, all he knows is that he has lived different lives and the closest one to the “real” him is the one he led as a small child. Everything from there has been a façade to escape some unknown danger. Noctis wonders sometimes if he isn’t being chased by a ghost for all he knows about these supposed enemies of his family’s. But his father is out there—a tangible being who can be touched, who can be hugged.

Noctis is overdue for over a decade’s worth of hugs.

That’s part of the reason he clings to the information Prompto passes on, despite that his best friend shakes his head and crinkles his nose and swears up and down it has to be a trap.

“Maybe you should lay low,” suggests Prompto, pacing around the room. He has lent Noctis use of one of his safe houses. It is located on the upper floors of a seemingly abandoned factory. The crumbling brick infrastructure and broken windows on the outside make it look entirely uninhabitable. But getting inside is tough. Once inside, dented up steel doors that seem stuck in place because of damage can slide apart with the right code—which can only be entered by a keypad hidden beneath a wooden crate nearby—and a stairwell leads to a house within the third floor. It has all the luxuries of a cute bungalow. The type that might be perfect for newlyweds if they don’t mind a lack of yard and the lingering smell of old machinery.

Cor has been around the place a bit, which explains the little jars of plants lined up near one of the broken windows of the warehouse. Apparently Weskham owns every warehouse in the neighborhood, and the rest are all used for active businesses to prevent any squatters from becoming interested and seeing more than they should when they look out the windows of those places and notice there is a whole house tucked within a nearby building. 

“I _am_ laying low,” says Noctis, glancing out two sets of windows to the brick wall with white letters painted on its side. A fishery—likely the place where Weskham gets fresh fish for his chain of restaurants. “If I laid any lower, I’d be six feet under.”

“Don’t go,” says Prompto, and what started as a suggestion now borders on begging.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“How do you know it’s really your dad?”

“Who else would know I’m…” Noctis shrugs. He doesn’t openly say it, even to the people who know. Cor long drummed it into his skull that some knowledge should never be spoken, written, or coded—even to friends. “Only my dad would understand that connection.”

“Or maybe someone figured it out!”

“Nah, who would figure it out?” Noctis grins at his best friend. “You sound more like Cor every day. You’ve been around him too long.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Prompto shrugs. “I’m just saying you need to be careful. What’ll I do if something happens to you?”

“I’ll be fine.” The dismissiveness in Noctis’ voice betrays his uncertainty, but he has made up his mind. He isn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to see Regis. 

~*~

Noctis unfolds a piece of paper to doublecheck the address of the warehouse. He has to refer to it several times as he walks around the district, trying to track down the correct building. All of these warehouses look the same—weather beaten exteriors and shattered glass windows, with stains and leaks and mother nature creeping through the cement cracks to crawl her way up the brick. 

Regis could be inside one of them. When Noctis finally hunts down the correct building, he leans against the wall next to the door and takes a few deep breaths. What is he more frightened of: the idea of not seeing his father? Or the idea of finally meeting him?

Noctis slips in through the door after a quick check of his surroundings. A corridor wraps around the outer wall, leading him past several offices. He pokes his head in each one. None of them show signs of life—dust has rested like a blanket over every surface, and only Noctis disturbs it. With each footprint, he leaves behind a story. 

One with a happy ending? Noctis can only hope.

When he reaches the end of the hallway, it opens to the factory. Any useful materials were long claimed by scavengers, and the broken machinery sags within itself, rusted and dismembered. Bits of bird nests are tucked into the rusty pipes, and the only footprints on the dirty floors are from racoons, birds, and stray cats. 

“Dad?” Noctis’ voice echoes back to him, even more hopeful and desperate than the noise that left his throat. 

No one answers back. He hears a noise behind a work station and eases his way over, but he only scares away a crow. 

“Sorry, buddy,” he mutters as he watches the bird fly up to one of the pipes overhead. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You apologize to birds?”

Noctis doesn’t recognize the voice at first, and in his hopefulness, turns to the source. Standing with his gun pointed at Noctis, is Ignis Scientia. 

“Crows are smart, didn’t you know? They might remember and hold a grudge.”

“I remember quite a bit about you as well. Put up your hands.”

Noctis holds up his arms in surrender, but he can’t resist his questions. “Where’s my dad? Was he coming at all?” 

“No.”

“He was never coming.” 

“No. And don’t think about running, I’ve got the building surrounded with my agents.”

Prompto had been right about this being a trap. Noctis must think fast on how he can twist this to his advantage somehow, because he can’t be in jail while he’s trying to find Regis. Not to mention Cor will hunt him down and kick his butt all the way to Niflheim for getting caught. What he needs is a way out of prison without having to slip out illegally, but it all comes down to the next few exchanges with Agent Scientia on whether or not he can manage it.


	5. Chapter 5

“Noctis Caelum, you are under arrest.”

Ignis has been waiting for ages to say those words, but the look that they’re met with makes his pride curdle. Blue eyes gaze at him with an unspoken betrayal. If Noctis weren’t a criminal, maybe Ignis would have pity to spare, but this is the man who broke into the Citadel and stole one of the most important artifacts in their country’s history—and that’s without mentioning all the other alleged crimes they suspect Noctis is behind.

“You used my dad to get to me,” whispers Noctis.

“Yes, I did.” Ignis withdraws his handcuffs but doesn’t take a step forward to seize Noctis into his custody right away. It doesn’t look like Noctis will try to run, anyway, and if he attempts it, the warehouse is surrounded by agents. 

“Why am I under arrest?” Noctis tries a soft, endearing smile, but it’s clearly strained. 

“We have video evidence of you infiltrating the construction team as reconnaissance for your theft of the Ring of the Lucii—as well as video surveillance that matches your height and shoe size.”

“You know my shoe size?”

“When you made your hasty escape last time, you left behind a few dusty footprints. I didn’t want them to go to waste.” 

“A lot of people share my shoe size. And you don’t have evidence that I stole the ring.”

Ignis had hoped to trick a confession out of Noctis, but it seems he isn’t about to let anything slip. “I have evidence of bond forgeries—the same thing I tried to arrest you on the last time, if you remember.”

“Yeah, I remember. Um, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let me go?” 

Ignis takes a step forward, and Noctis takes one back.

“Hear me out,” says Noctis, holding up his palms. “I need to find my dad. That was a shitty move, using him to lure me out. Besides, I gave the ring back, remember? It’s back at the Citadel, safe and sound, and now they’re upgrading their security measures. Works out, doesn’t it?”

“That’s not how this works.” 

Noctis scoots back and falls into a chair, huffing loudly as the dust clouds up around him. He waves it away and lets out a sob as he begins to speak. “I need to find my dad. You don’t understand.”

Ignis doesn’t understand, and he is afraid to ask Noctis for an explanation. What if it’s a distraction? If it _is_ an attempt to get Ignis to lower his guard, however, Noctis has done a good job as an actor to seem disarming and sincere.

“If you take me into custody, will you help me? Will you meet with me in prison and hear me out?”

“Why should I do that?” Ignis tightens his grip on the handcuffs. He should have them on Noctis by now.

“I need your help, and maybe there’s something I can do for you in return. I don’t know yet.”

Ignis sighs, frustrated both with Noctis and with himself. Why is he considering it? Is it the fear and honesty in Noctis’ voice? Is it the way those blue eyes water when Noctis mentions his father?

“Please, Ignis.” That is new—his first name. Not “Agent Scientia” but “Ignis”, and delivered in a voice brimming with pain, like a scream drawn from a burning throat. “Please,” Noctis repeats, the word cracking with his sob.

Ignis needs more details, but if he does visit Noctis in jail, he can ask for them then. Not now, when he needs to arrest him and get him processed. They’ll have time enough later to chat. Before the trial, after the trial. Sometime soon, when Noctis is in one place. Somewhere Ignis knows how to find him.

“I might be willing to help you with your father, if you tell me more about what’s going on soon,” says Ignis, unsure of why he is taking pity on this man. Everything he thought about the infamous Noctis Caelum is crumbling. They met in person only once before Ignis last tried to catch him—long ago, when only Noctis knew who the other person was. Ignis faintly remembers a smug, cocky young man during both brief encounters.

Noctis seems more childlike now as he furiously swipes away tears from his eyes. The rest of him is like a dam, holding back the water, but there is too much, and his crying betrays him.

Something tells Ignis this isn’t an act. This pain is genuine. Pain Noctis must feel for a father he wants to meet desperately. 

“I can return the favor,” says Noctis, his voice cracking. “There’s a lot I know. I could be more use to you outside of prison than in…”

“No.” The thief of the Ring of the Lucii wants to be a criminal informant? There is no way Clarus would greenlight that.

“I returned it,” says Noctis, as if he knows what Ignis is thinking. “I didn’t keep it.”

Ignis shakes his head. “I can’t trust you, Caelum.”

The other man bows his head. “Think about it,” says Noctis, offering his wrists in surrender. “My sentence won’t be long—four years at most? I can serve it out by helping you.”

“We’ll see, in due time.” 

It shouldn’t _hurt_ to pull out his handcuffs and recite Noctis his rights, but Ignis certainly doesn’t feel anything akin to victory. This should be a defining moment in his career. He’ll go home to Luna and the dogs and eat take-out from that amazing Galahdian restaurant Nyx’s family owns, and the media will talk about how Noctis Caelum has finally been captured. 

Something tells Ignis his night will be far less celebratory and more somber. 

Ignis pushes aside the guilt and marches Noctis out of the building.


	6. Chapter 6

Orange isn’t Noctis’ color. Or maybe it isn’t the color that bothers him so much as the style. Nothing screams ‘prisoner’ like an orange jumpsuit. His trial has come and gone, with only a few correspondences from Agent Scientia—short promises that they will talk now that a sentence has been carried out. 

Cor was present at the trial. He came as one of the marshals and spared a few seconds to send Noctis a rather chilling threat with his eyes. 

Returning the Ring of the Lucii lessened Noctis’ sentence. His action hadn’t been to spare him in a courtroom; the theft had been a lure for his father, but its return was meant to draw attention to its history. Now Noctis has no idea if the LBI or any individuals have researched the ring out of curiosity and what might have been unearthed. Any information that might help him find his father and keep him safe. Instead, Noctis sits in a jail cell and waits for Ignis’ visit. 

It becomes the only thing to look forward to as the drab days wear on. He is only a few weeks into a three-year prison sentence. Three years sound short on paper, but Noctis is ready to claw the dirt in the prison yard with his fingernails to escape after only a couple of days. No one could have prepared him for the reality, even though Cor tried to warn him growing up. The first rule? Never get caught. 

Prompto is Noctis’ only visitor. He comes a handful of times, wearing high heels, a cute dress, a wig, and makeup. Who knew Prompto could pull off sundresses? They talk face to face, Prompto using subtle hand codes taught to them by Weskham to relay messages while he chats about mundane things like the weather. 

Mostly, all the codes are messages from Cor and Weskham, reminding Noctis not to do anything stupid. Not to _say_ anything stupid. Stay out of fights, eat his vegetables, and if he dares to escape, Cor will personally drag him back with a little less skin on his stupid, stupid hide. ‘Stupid’ seems to be the group’s favorite word to use with Noctis lately. 

“Love you,” says Prompto when he leaves, and he blows Noctis a sweet kiss through the glass every time. He plays up the role of a doting girlfriend for the guards, but even when it seems like he’s being a little obnoxious with the role, the guards always grin at Noctis about it later. Half of them are dazzled by the blond. Noctis considers telling Prompto about it, but then he might not visit anymore if he finds out his disguise is creating more attention rather than less.

Ignis doesn’t have to wait until visiting day. As an LBI agent, he has the right to demand Noctis be pulled out of kitchen duty on any day of the week. The prisoners who eat whatever Noctis helps to concoct can be grateful for slightly less burnt toast and a safer amount of salt in their beans, even if it only lasts for one afternoon.

“I doubt you’ll tell me about your father while you’re in prison,” begins Ignis, “so I’ve come to see what you can offer me if I ask for your consultation on a case.”

This is all the leverage Noctis needs to get out of jail. Weskham and Cor didn’t train him so he could waste his skills in a square cell. “If I help you, will you make me your CI?”

“ _If_ you help me.”

Noctis leans back in his seat, grinning. “That part’s easy. You’re looking into the Longwythe Silver.”

Ignis stares unblinkingly at him. 

“We have a TV in here, and I can still read the news in the library. The victory of capturing another jewelry thief… I’m sure the bureau knew you were the guy for the job.” 

The exasperation that flashes across Ignis’ face for a second confirms Noctis’ suspicion.

“The silver was mined from the Balouve Mines ninety years ago, and the ruby from the Zu Necklace was dug up near Galdin. The pieces were made by a famous jeweler in Keycatrich. Only the wealthiest citizens could afford them. Most of the pieces disappeared over sixty years ago, and whichever ones were found were supposed to be returned to the families who owned them.” Noctis leans in, hands steepled on the table between them. “The pieces turning up now—are they fakes?”

“Not exactly,” says Ignis. “The Zu Necklace you mentioned? The silver is the original, but it has been tampered with, and the ruby inside is fake.”

“The Zu Necklace is worth more than the rest of the silver combined. The other two dozen pieces could fetch for two million collectively, but the Zu Necklace’s ruby was insured for five million—and that appraisal was almost seventy years ago.” Noctis doesn’t need to do the math for both men to know that price has skyrocketed since then. “Its recovery would add to the allure. The silver’s history and handiwork makes all the pieces valuable, but the ruby’s value was originally based on its rarity. When the Zu Necklace shows up, no one will look at another ruby on the market—but the collectors will know it’s the real thing.”

“But we already know the one we have is a fake.”

“Is it the only fake among all the pieces returned?”

There’s a pause, and Noctis waits for it all to click in Ignis’ head. 

“They didn’t expect us to check the Zu Necklace’s ruby when all the other silver turned out to be real, especially with the fake ruby fitted into the original silver.”

Noctis makes a click as he points a finger gun at Ignis. It can be fun to show off, and he likes doing it for Agent Scientia most of all.

“Now you see why you need me.”

Noctis could be useful to Ignis and the rest of his team. Everyone Ignis works for is intelligent, but Noctis might just be smarter than all of them combined—even if he doesn’t let anyone in on it. The wit is hidden behind his youthful, private exterior. No one at first glance ever thinks Noctis a criminal. At worst, they assume he’s a moody college student, average in all ways.

“You’re serious about becoming a CI?” asks Ignis. “You would have to wear an anklet that tracks your every move. The government would be in every facet of your life to check that you’re behaving yourself. Even one suspicious move would put you back in prison.” 

“Yeah, I get that.” Noctis shrugs. This is the first time he has ever been caught, and if he hadn’t been willing to risk everything for his father, he would still be at large. 

Noctis doesn’t have any threatening traits—he has never killed or injured another person. He’s friendly and talkative in the right setting with the right subject. Only after stealing the Ring of the Lucii did anyone consider him a high-profile criminal. And he’s counting on Ignis to understand the situation about his father. If pity will keep him out of jail and connections in the LBI will help him track Regis, he’ll use every tool at his disposal. 

Ignis sighs, as if he’s going to regret his decision. Noctis will have to make sure he does his best to avoid any such doubt festering between them this early.

“All right, we’ll do this. We’ll do a trial run. If you help me track down the Zu Ruby, we can continue this business relationship for more cases. The same rules will apply, but you’ll be considered an employee of the government. A tool.” 

Noctis smiles and relaxes. Too much has been weighing on his back over the past few weeks, and this is the fresh start he has been needing in life. No one needs to know that he’s pretending to be a “tool” to use others. Perhaps Agent Scientia is already aware of his intentions. “Thank you, Ignis.” 

Ignis offers his hand to shake on the deal. Noctis lifts his gaze to Ignis’ face, to the determined green eyes and beautifully shaped lips. Those will all be distractions. He shouldn’t let his admiration get in the way of his goals. Falling in love is the biggest con of them all, and if he wants to avoid it, he needs to keep this strictly professional.

Noctis grasps Ignis’ hand and gives it a firm shake. It is now a done deal. Within the next few days, he’ll be wearing a tracking anklet. It’ll give him more space than a prison cell, and he’ll have access to new resources. 

It’ll all work out. He’ll find Regis. After that, he can do whatever he wants. Maybe he can even stop living like a criminal. Go back to school and be that average person everyone mistakes him for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noct knows all of Cor's threats are empty words. :'D
> 
> Everything I learned, I learned from White Collar~  
> (And having fun in the playground that is Eos and FFXV, of course!)


	7. Chapter 7

It takes Ignis a few hours to find suitable lodgings for Noctis. He sits down with Noctis at the bureau to go over where he might live and what would be a fair range for him to wander. Two miles, Ignis thinks, is generous—especially in a compact city like Insomnia. It will give Noctis plenty of shopping choices, including thrift stores for clothing and a variety of grocery stores for even the most selective of appetites.

“It has to be near the bureau,” says Ignis. “We can set your tracking device within a radius that centers around your workplace and home.”

Noctis frowns at the map, but he doesn’t respond. Ignis continues to browse for accommodations at his desktop computer, narrowing down the cost of rent to something obtainable with Noctis’ salary. He even glances at hotels, but the better ones are expensive even after he factors in the reduced prices for long-term stays. Why doesn’t the bureau offer better housing for its criminal informants? Something to get them back on their feet? These dreary options would drive any person back to crime, where money seems much easier to obtain than grueling work hours. Even Ignis doesn’t make enough to at the LBI to own his own home or rent out more than a small one-bedroom apartment. Thank goodness for Luna’s fancy clients who slap down more money on a party than the average person spends in five years or they would never live in their renovated brownstone. 

“What about this?” Ignis hunts down a studio apartment at the tip of the two-mile he would like to afford Noctis. It once housed refugees from the war—people with less money than those who fled Keycatrich. But in the sixty-something years since then, the location has been converted into cheap housing. It isn’t wonderful, but Noctis wouldn’t have to worry about whether he could feed himself after he pays rent.

“No way.” Noctis shakes his head at the screen. “I’d rather not have cockroaches for roommates.” He taps the eraser end of a pencil on his desk and nibbles on the corner of his mouth. “Mind if I step out and use the phone?”

“You can’t leave my sight until you have a tracking anklet on,” says Ignis.

“Program it to be two miles within the bureau and snap it on me. You are aiming for two miles, right?”

Ignis sighs. “Yes, I am.”

“Good.” Noctis stands and lifts his foot onto Ignis’ desk. “Put it on.” 

Ignis glances over at Aranea, who is pressing her lips together in a futile attempt not to laugh. “Could you fetch it, Aranea?”

She leaves in a fit of giggles.

“Get your filthy shoe off my desk, please,” says Ignis, eyes lingering a bit too long on the lean, exposed leg between Noctis’ shoe and the hem of his capris. His mind wanders to the muscle definition beneath the clothing. To pull off a theft within the Citadel, Noctis would no doubt be in excellent shape. 

“I will once you fit me with that anklet.” Noctis leans in, elbow on knee, chin tucked in his palm, and smiles. 

Ignis is grateful when Aranea emerges with the anklet in hand. It is a sleek black band that should allow for Noctis to put a sock under it but not be able to slip his foot out without breaking a few bones first. Aranea is not gentle when she grabs Noctis’ leg and jerks it toward her. Noctis loses balance and rescues himself with his palms pressed against Ignis’ desk.

Once the lock is put in place, a soft green light turns on and blinks at them.

“You’re all set to go, Caelum,” says Aranea, dropping his leg. “Two miles out of line and I’ll shoot you.”

“Nice,” mutters Noctis in a tone that suggests he feels otherwise. He takes out the phone Ignis gave to him earlier and slips out the doors of the office.

“You’re letting him go out?” Aranea watches Noctis until he’s gone.

“Not willingly, but we did put the tracking device on him. We have to trust he won’t run.”

“Might have to reprogram it once you find him a place to live,” says Aranea. “I doubt he’s going to find something affordable this close to the bureau.”

“We’ll have to see.” Ignis hasn’t been able to find much, aside from the cheap housing in the old refugee district. And why should Noctis be picky? The apartments all have bathrooms, a small kitchen, and central air. Criminals shouldn’t complain when their alternative living quarters involve barred windows, guards, and putting their head down three feet away from a steel toilet.

Ignis pulls up Noctis’ tracking info on his computer to get an idea of his location. It shows that Noctis is still somewhere inside the building. Perhaps he simply wanted to make a private phone call. To where, Ignis is curious. He decides to look that up as well. The phone has already been logged into the system, although Ignis doubts it’ll be Noctis’ only one. Give it a few days, and any con man will have seven phones at his disposal. Most of them will be burners kept for emergencies, but Noctis will have at least one other phone to use for his personal contacts—people he doesn’t want the LBI to know about. 

Aranea reaches into her pocket and withdraws another key. She reaches for Ignis’ wrist and drops it into his palm. 

“There are four of them,” she says. “They have two backups downstairs, you’ll have one, and I need to give the other to Clarus. If there’s anyone else you want carrying one, let me know.”

Ignis looks at it. It doesn’t have teeth. It has the same workings as a video game cartridge, meant to be read by the computer system. If it doesn’t coordinate with the right ankle device, it won’t work. In fact, that will set off an alarm in the system. If Noctis tampers with his anklet, it will have the same effect.

“Thank you,” he says.

“I’ll go deliver this other one to Clarus.”

As Aranea leaves, Noctis returns. He dives into the chair next to Ignis’, straddling it with the back tucked under his folded arms.

“You seem victorious. I hope whatever you did, it was legal.”

Noctis grins. “Is ‘landing a place’ illegal?”

“No, but how did you find one?”

“An old friend has a house nearby. Don’t worry, he’s not a criminal. You ever heard of Hammerhead?”

Hammerhead is a service station in Insomnia with a unique shark-shaped roof. The business was set up nearly two decades ago. Nothing around the place has ever been suspicious—in fact, it is remarkably clean, with a good reputation for being friendly, affordable, and thorough. Luna says one of the mechanics is ‘a cutie’, which is one of the reasons she always goes there when she needs work on her car.

“I’m familiar with the it.”

“Ah, well, my friend owns Hammerhead. He lives with his granddaughter in a house not too far away. It’s within my radius, and you wouldn’t have to adjust anything on my anklet.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

“Cid. Cid Sophiar.” 

Ignis takes a mental note of the name to look him up later. He’ll need to review the granddaughter, too.

“I can drive you.” Ignis lifts his jacket from the back of his chair as he stands. 

Noctis makes no move, and his smile sours to a frown. 

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s my job to make sure your accommodations are appropriate. We can’t afford to place you in an environment where you might have a relapse.”

“Do criminals relapse?”

“All the time.” If only Noctis could see some of the other cases Ignis has worked on, how many of his suspects have been in and out of prison. Well, Noctis will see plenty of it as they work through cases together. 

Noctis is quiet on the drive to the house. Other than offering a few directions, he sits back and scrolls through his phone. He looks to be playing a game—King’s Knight?

“Ah, do you play that as well?” asks Ignis.

“Yeah, but I lost my old game. Sorry, we’ll have to start over. I’ll send you a friend request.”

“Start over? Wait, how do you know I play?”

Noctis tilts back his head and laughs. “I’m ‘Prince’.”

How could Ignis have missed that? Plenty of people use similar nicknames—prince, princess, king, queen. Sometimes in front of a moniker, other times alone. Ignis never thought anything of it.

“How do you know—oh.” Ignis, being a predictable soul, uses his real first name in any games that ask for one. Even that animal game Luna wanted him to try and he played for five minutes before deciding he wasn’t about to spend his days running errands for anthropomorphic squirrels and rabbits. “You’ve been playing the game with me all this time?”

Noctis dips head into his elbow to hide his grin, but Ignis catches it anyway.

“Oh, Ignis! Here, right on this corner!”

Ignis peers through the front windshield to get a good look at the building. That can’t be right. That’s a mansion. Does Hammerhead do that well as a business? Something like this would be ten million gil if it went on the market. There is no yard, but it does have flower boxes made of stone and gates barring the walkway. Wrought-iron bars shield the wooden door behind.

“Did you miss prison that much?” remarks Ignis as he looks for a space wide enough between other vehicles to parallel park.

“Oh, the door? That’s just the architecture. I doubt that’s even locked.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? This is an expensive neighborhood. Are you sure this is your friend’s home and not your next target?”

“Why don’t you come in and ask Cid yourself?”

“Yes, I think I’ll do that.” Once Ignis has the car parked, he steps outside and cranes his neck to get a good view of the large home across the street. It must be four floors. That doesn’t seem too impressive when Ignis thinks about Luna’s place with its three floors and a basement, but it is a tiny building squeezed between two others, a thin wedge of a house meant to handle the growing population of an urban area. 

The architecture of the mansion would place it at two centuries’ old; a time when Lucis was still ruled by the monarchy. Gargoyles guard the roof. Little squares of raised garden are walled in with graying stones, the marigolds half-dead from the incoming chill of autumn.

A young woman opens both doors and waves to them cheerfully. 

“Come on in,” she says, stepping aside to allow them through the door. “Who’s this, Noct?”

“Ah, it’s Agent Scientia,” says Noctis, shrugging. “Er, Ignis. Um, Ignis, this is Cindy—Cid’s granddaughter.”

Cindy’s smile falters, but she recovers it within a second. “Paw-Paw’s in the kitchen, makin’ some tea.”

Ignis wouldn’t know where to find the kitchen. They’re standing in a foyer, and ahead of them is a great staircase, with another doorway to the right. The left opens to a comfortable living room that stretches far back until another doorway leads to the dining room. Perhaps the kitchen is towards the back. 

“Follow me,” says Cindy, waving them along until they reach the dining room. 

By the time they’ve finished sitting down, the double doors to the side swing open and an old man with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of tea steps out. 

“Paw-Paw, let me help with that!” Cindy is back on her feet, hands smoothly lifting the tray upward and far above his grasp. With one fluid turn, she slips it onto the table and begins to fill glasses. 

“Who’s this?” The old man narrows his eyes at Ignis.

“That’s Ignis Scientia, he’s that LBI guy Noct was tellin’ us about on the phone.”

“You must be Cid,” says Ignis, extending a hand only for it to be looked at with distain and then ignored. Cid moves around the table and finds a spot near the window—far from Ignis. 

“He’s always like this,” Noctis explains. “And it gets worse in his old age.”

“I’ll show you worse in my old age, boy,” grumbles Cid, nodding in appreciation to his granddaughter when she sets a glass of iced tea in front of him.

“I don’t like iced tea,” says Noctis when Cindy offers.

“Stop being picky and drink your damn tea,” says Cid.

Noctis accepts the glass and pretends to take a sip. Ignis notes the sliver of air between liquid and lips that any con man would use to avoid being inebriated at an inconvenient time. Or worse—poisoned. This time, Ignis knows it’s merely avoidance of a disliked drink. 

The tea is delicious, though a bit sweet for Ignis’ tastes. Cid and Cindy both sip theirs down before Cid launches into any of his questions. 

“What’s his radius?” Cid’s questions come out snappish and short. “Curfew?”

“Two miles. You can set his curfew, if you wish.”

“Good.” Cid bangs down his cup. “I don’t wish, but it’s nice to know I’ve got that kind of power. Stupid kid. What were you thinkin’, stealin’ that damn ring?” 

Ignis gets the impression Noctis’ new accommodations might not be as hospitable as the thief intended. The house is beautiful and large, but the owner doesn’t seem like he’ll take any shit from Noctis.

Making it the perfect place for Noctis to live. 

“Thank you for the tea,” says Ignis, standing. “If you have any questions, you can call me.” For good measure, he sets down one of his contact cards on the table, but he knows as soon as he leaves, Cid will toss it. Maybe Cindy will have the graciousness to fetch it out of the trash.

Ignis doesn’t love the idea of leaving Noctis behind and going home, but this first night will be a good test to see if Noctis stays put or tries to run. 

“That’s ridiculous,” he mutters when he returns to the privacy of his car and starts the ignition. Noctis needs the LBI’s resources to find his dad—Ignis is not fooled by his helpfulness. It is all trickery. The only question is how long Noctis plans to stay cooperative once he has what he needs. 

Ignis hopes he’s wrong about Noctis. A part of him wants to see the other man successfully kick his criminal habits aside and live a normal, clean life. There’s no reason not to help him on his journey of recovery, despite what hunches Ignis has about their current roles. Sometimes all a person needs is someone to reach out their hand and promise to help and remain there through thick and thin. Ignis can be that person for Noctis. All he has to do is believe _in_ him, even if right now, he can’t believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cid telling Noctis to drink his tea was entirely unplanned, but once I typed it, I realized it made an excellent FFVII reference. :D
> 
> This chapter was a blast to write. Between Noctis putting his foot on Ignis' desk, telling him about being Prince on King's Knight, and Cid being a grumpy old man... I had fun. :')


	8. Chapter 8

“What’re you doing, bringin’ a fed into my house?” Cid narrows his eyes at Noctis from beneath his cap, and Noctis skirts away from him in case the old man has decided to take up wrench-throwing in his retirement. 

Instead, Cid points at the anklet on Noctis’ right leg.

“That the price you’re payin’ to use LBI resources to find your daddy?” Cid shakes his head. “How ‘bout I call Cor and have him strangle you? That’d make me feel better.”

“Paw-Paw.” Cindy sighs from her seat at the table. “You know you want to find Regis as much as he does. There’s no shame in roundin’ up some help from the government to do it.”

Cid sighs. “That fed’s gonna look into us.”

“I know,” says Noctis quietly. “But he’s not going to find anything, is he?” 

Noctis gave it a lot of thought before making the phone call and asking for Cid to house him. His options are limited, and Noctis has no intention of climbing into bed in a shitty apartment hardly bigger than his old prison cell. Besides, Cid gave him permission to live there knowing full well this might happen.

“The only connection I have to your daddy is workin’ on the Regalia,” says Cid. “I ain’t got connections to the royal family like Weskham. And Cor’s a ghost, but he’d like to keep it that way. You’re lucky I’m not him, or I’d kick the snot outta you for this stunt.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll kill me anyway when he sees me next. You should’ve heard the threats he made through Prompto. One minute he loves me like a son and the next he wants to see me dig my own grave. And to think he’s supposed to be protecting me.” Noctis lets out a short laugh. Despite all his promises of violence, Cor is harmless. There will be a reprimand, sure, but every harsh word will be out of concern for Noctis’ well-being. 

“He keepin’ his distance?”

“For now. If he needs anything, he’ll send Prompto. I’m sure they’ll figure out I’m here soon.” 

It’ll make the place less dull if Prompto stops by for a visit. Cid and Cindy talk shop over the breakfast table and damn near any time they’re in the same room. All of Noctis’ knowledge centers around how to hotwire a vehicle—something Cor taught him before he was old enough to obtain a learner’s permit. 

Noctis then used that knowledge to attempt to steal the Regalia out of Cid’s garage when he was no more than fourteen. It is a bit of a sore subject in the Sophiar household, and Noctis doesn’t like to remember the scolding everyone gave him as a group—Cor, Cid, and even Weskham. The Regalia was then moved to an unknown location for safe-keeping. 

Even though it’s technically Regis’ vehicle and Noctis ought to be the one to inherit it if his father isn’t coming around to claim it. (But the real reason for hiding it has to do with how quickly it can be identified as Regis’ vehicle. Technically, Cid shouldn’t have that, but the old man is nothing if not sentimental.)

“Mind if I head upstairs?” asks Noctis, deciding the best way to avoid car chatter is to retreat for the rest of the day.

Cid nods, fingers tracing the tip of his hat. “Begone with you. Take care of that apartment, or I really will put a curfew on you!”

Noctis laughs off the threat, knowing full well that Cid has no intention of abusing his “power” to set a curfew. Not when he’ll find Noctis handy during odd hours of the night and be as likely to contribute to any schemes that are necessary to find Regis. 

The upstairs apartment rests at the top of the mansion, with windows and doors that look out at the cityscape. Not even some of the taller trees around the neighborhood can block out the view of Insomnia. Noctis stayed with Cor and Prompto in that apartment sometimes. It was nice, with lots of hiding places behind portraits and inside the fireplace mantle. There are odd buttons and even a ladder leading up to an attic. Hidden viewpoints, too, from the days when the room was used for illegal activities.

And the best part? It is fully furnished and completely free for Noctis to live in, clearing up most of his salary for the better luxuries in life. As soon as he steps in, he spots a bowl of chocolates on the table with a note from Cindy welcoming him into their home. That makes him smile. Even better than the chocolates, though, is the bed tucked into its alcove. It looks fluffy and warm, and Noctis sheds half his clothing before dropping down over it in his boxer briefs and tee-shirt. He stares up at the vaulted windowed ceiling above him before he begins to slowly drift off. 

~*~

Noctis is not having the best time as part of the new LBI team member. A lot of the agents regard him with mistrust, even Ignis—which makes it hard to work on their current case. Ignis makes it clear to Noctis he doesn’t care for allowing Noctis to look at the original silver of the Zu Necklace, but Noctis insists that he’s familiar with the handiwork of some local off-the-book jewelers. It takes Ignis a whole ten minutes before he caves and Nyx carries up the piece from evidence at his boss’s request.

“You don’t need all your agents watching me,” says Noctis, eyes hopping from Ignis to Nyx to Aranea. “I’m not gonna take off with it.”

“This may surprise you, but I don’t trust you.” 

Noctis pretends to look wounded before he picks up the silver and uses a magnifier on the part around the ruby.

“This is good work,” says Noctis. “ _Really_ good work. They managed to swap out the jewels without damaging any of the original work—or at least, it looks authentic. Anyway, you should check the ruby. This is good work, but it’s not without a signature.”

“Signature?”

“Yeah, the guy you’re looking for will have left some kind of mark on his work, some way of claiming it as his own.”

“Like initials?”

“Not always. Just some way for him to know that this work is his…” Noctis studies the jewelry closer and notices something distinct about the way the ruby is set into the silver. “Do you have a photo of the original?”

Ignis flips through a file before producing an image. While the color has faded from the paper over the years, and it isn’t as sharp, it still provides a comparison for Noctis. The difference in subtle, but the way the metal curves in an ornate fashion tells Noctis two things. Firstly, the jeweler who set the ruby is proud of his work and knows he can do better than the original artist. Secondly, he knows the name of the person who swapped out the real with a fake.

“I know whose work this is,” says Noctis, setting down the silver on top of the picture.

“Do you know every criminal in the art world?” asks Aranea, hands on hips. 

“Most of them.” Noctis sits back in his chair and smirks. “His name is Dino Ghiranze.”

“Wait, you mean the former Meteor journalist? The one who left to go work for the Galdin Times?”

“Guess he found an even better gig. Not that I’m surprised—he’s been an aspiring jeweler since before I met him.” Noctis isn’t a fan of Dino’s, and he knows someone else who once held a fondness for the man that later soured. Someone who wouldn’t mind seeing Dino caught. “I think I have an idea about how to lure him out. This is definitely his work, and he’s the type who’d be eager to sell quickly. Do you mind if I talk to one of my contacts, see if he can get me a meeting? We can wire me up and send me in, and I’m sure I can get him to confess.” 

Noctis can sense Ignis’ critical eye on him before he meets his gaze. There’s a fiery deliberation taking place in that brain. Another light push is required.

“My contact will be happy to see him fall,” Noctis adds. “You might even find the diamonds Dino stole from Taelpar Crag dig site.” 

“He’s behind that, too?” asks Aranea, voice high.

After a minute, Ignis nods. “Fine. I’ll let you reach out to your contact and get a location on him. This family wants the real ruby back so the grandson of the original jeweler can set it back in place. Not to mention the other silver. If he’s responsible for the theft at Taelpar Crag, too, we can close more than one case.”

Noctis grins. “We’ll get him, Ignis.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re right.” Ignis sighs and gathers up his papers, and Noctis slips away to use his new phone—a gift from Cindy—to contact Prompto. They’ll need to meet somewhere private to plan the last stage of capturing Dino.

~*~

Prompto is already at the apartment when Noctis arrives home from work, chatting animatedly with Cindy about how to hot wire more difficult cars. They barely give Noctis a glance, and it isn’t until they’ve finished explaining the modifications and tools necessary to steal a Lucian Cruiser released just last month that they turn to say hello to him.

Noctis pours a glass of wine from the bottle the two have been drinking from and sits at the table with them.

“How was your day, buddy?” asks Prompto.

“Interesting,” admits Noctis. “You willing to turn on Dino Ghiranze?”

“Who’s Dino Ghiranze?” asks Cindy.

“Guy Prompto used to date.” Noctis swirls his wine around in his glass. He doesn’t care much for the taste, but when he was studying under Weskham, he had to learn how to identify flavors down to the brand and year. Another bit of “useful” knowledge bestowed upon him as a teen. He seldom turns down wine when offered or when it’s lying around. “Dino cheated on him but claimed they were in an open relationship and didn’t owe fidelity to each other.”

“Didn’t tell me that when we first started going out,” mutters Prompto, earning a sympathetic pat from Cindy on his shoulders. 

“He’s behind the Longwythe Silver,” says Noctis. “I told Ignis to look for a signature in the Zu Ruby, but we couldn’t find any. But I recognized the way he set the stone in place with the silver. It’s definitely him.”

Prompto’s eyes widen. “Did you tell the Suit?”

“Not yet,” says Noctis. “We can’t arrest him on that evidence alone. We need something solid. I thought maybe you might get in touch with him. Tell him I’ve got a buyer. Once he agrees to let me in on it, that’s where Ignis comes in and busts him. He goes off to prison, and you get your revenge.”

“I don’t hate him enough to turn him into the feds, Noct!” 

“Cheating wasn’t the only thing he did to Prompto,” says Noctis, purposefully directing his attention to Cindy and raising his voice. “He stole hundreds of thousands of gil worth of Taelpar Crag diamonds and other goods from Prompto and took off for Galdin with his girlfriend.”

“Where he still is, I bet,” grumbles Prompto.

“I may have told Ignis that Dino stole the diamonds…”

“What? What if he says he got them from me?”

“He won’t. He’ll be in trouble for possession, and he’d never admit that he didn’t pull that con on his own. Dino likes all the credit he can take.” That’s one thing Noctis never liked about the jeweler, especially when Dino likes to send others on his errands while he sits cozily from his expensive lodgings, eating the best seafood one can find in Lucis.

“What an awful man!” Cindy’s nose flares. “Now, Prom, you need to teach that boy a lesson! You can’t be soft on a man like that. He deserves everything comin’ to him. I say you get him in touch with Noctis and get your sweet revenge!”

“Who says he’ll talk to me?” asks Prompto.

“All those times he contacts you to ask for another chance,” points out Noctis. He takes a pause to drink a little of the wine. Yeah, he’s still not a fan. “Willing to bet if you ask him a favor, he’ll say he’ll do it in exchange for a date. Get his hopes up…and then let him down.”

Cindy lets out a holler of agreement, and Prompto stares at Noctis for a moment before he nods.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Cindy whoops before tossing her arms around Prompto and giving him a kiss—right on the lips. The gesture makes Prompto blush to his ears. 

“You’re doing me a favor, Prom.” Noctis grins and lifts his wine glass for a toast. “It keeps me out of prison to lock him up, and you get your revenge.” 

Prompto looks like a drunk little puppy, swaying in his seat from the flattery. Then he readjusts his glasses and shrugs humbly. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, it’s _everything_ ,” says Noctis, and he finishes off his glass of wine and promises silently to stock the apartment with soda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mozzie has glasses, Prompto had glasses as a kid... So Prompto gets glasses. Sorry, I don't make the rules. 
> 
> Dino is great, and I feel bad that I'm enjoying his role in this story. I needed some non-dangerous criminals to play with for some of these cases. :')


	9. Chapter 9

Ignis is proud of the work he does. He has faith in his LBI team.

But Noctis is a new element, unpredictable and scheming, and Ignis doesn’t know if his trust for this operation has been well-placed. They have sent Noctis in— _without his tracking anklet_ —into the home of Dino Ghiranze. Alone. Their only link to the goings-on inside the apartment is the wire Noctis wears.

It sounds like a bad idea, only it gets worse when Ignis overhears the circumstances under which Dino agreed to meet with Noctis.

“Where’s Prom?” asks Dino. “He said I’d get a date if I met up with you. Thought he’d show up with you.”

A date? And who is Prom? That must be the contact Noctis used to reach out to Dino. They don’t have a lot of information about the people around Noctis, but Ignis makes a mental note of this person’s presence for future reference. 

Ignis can’t see anything from where he sits in a van, parked outside of the apartment building Dino resides in. They have agents stationed around in plain clothes, pretending to be neighbors. If anything happens and Dino tries to run, they’ll be able to catch him. They are not there to pursue Noctis if he bolts in all the chaos. Ignis feels blind and vulnerable. If Noctis breaks his trust, Ignis will have to answer to Clarus, who will have to answer to his boss—and the whole chain will be a mess of yelling and paperwork. To avoid all of that, Ignis wants Noctis to mean his recent allegiances, despite his transparent plan to use the bureau’s resources. 

“You have to finish your end of the bargain first.” Noctis’ voice is firm and reasonable.

“I only agreed to this so I could see Prompto. I’m not selling to your client until I get my date.”

“He knows that. I know that. But you’re not getting a date until I confirm the authenticity of the ruby for my client.”

There’s a pause, and Gladiolus shuffles with slight impatience from his seat next to Ignis. The van is crowded and smells bad, and even Ignis would like an excuse to burst into the apartment and arrest Dino if only to have a moment of fresh air. But they have to give it time.

“Who’s your client, anyway?” asks Dino.

In the van, some agents go stiff, because no one thought of a fictional person or a fictional name. Maybe Ignis should have gone in posing as a buyer. This whole operation could collapse if Dino gets suspicious.

But Noctis doesn’t miss a beat. “He’d like to remain anonymous, but if you insist, I can call and have him meet us. Let’s just say he has a special interest in Lucian history and has investments in health and fitness.”

There is silence through the wire for a few beats. It is interrupted when Nyx’s phone rings, but Nyx is quick to answer once he sees the caller is Noctis.

“Why are you calling me at work?” asks Nyx, seamlessly slipping into the role.

Ignis can’t make out anything Noctis says on the other side of the line and wishes Nyx would have thought to put it on speaker for them.

“I’ll be there in half an hour. You have a place?”

As soon as Nyx is off the line, they scramble with an identity. Aranea sets one up for someone named “Ulric James”—the name is Noctis’ idea, according to Nyx. It doesn’t take her long to come up with a business for their new entrepreneur, including using one of the LBI’s backup social media accounts to boast James’ achievements and goals. Aranea types in falsehoods while Gladiolus shoots fitness-related ideas at her. Dino could already be on his phone to research his new buyer, but Ignis doesn’t hear anything over the wire but their target’s modernized sonnets about Prompto. 

Ignis has really got to figure out who this other man is in case he becomes a problem later on.

“What about your clothes?” says Ignis, gesturing to the badly tailored suit that Nyx wears. It isn’t as nice as the one he rented out when he went undercover to find Noctis. 

“I’ve got this.” Nyx tosses off his blazer and drapes it across his chair. The shirt beneath is more fitted to his size, pulling across the muscles of his arms in a way that—well, if Ignis were interested in a guy like Nyx, it would catch his eye. “We’ll say I’m a little unconventional.” 

Nyx rolls up his cuffs, discards his tie, and loosens the two top buttons of his dress shirt.

“I’d go for you, Ulric James,” says Aranea approvingly. 

They wait as Nyx heads inside. The agents stationed around know not to pay attention to him. Ignis focuses back on the conversation Noctis has been having with Dino, but it is just more rambling about this Prompto person.

“I miss those days in Galdin with him,” says Dino.

“He does, too. You might’ve enjoyed them longer if you hadn’t slept with the restaurant chef.” 

“Oh, but it was fun. I don’t regret it.”

“Heh, I guess she left you, too.”

Ignis catches Aranea rolling her eyes, and Gladiolus snorts. None of them are interested in the infidelities of a youthful jeweler. 

“Hey, why did Noctis choose Nyx? I’m the fittest one here.” Gladiolus flexes his muscles. 

“You’re _too_ fit,” says Aranea. “You look like you’ve come to beat someone up. Nyx wouldn’t alarm this guy as much.”

Gladiolus grunts. “I have people skills.”

It doesn’t matter to Ignis, as long as this works. He feels somewhat comforted by Nyx’s presence inside—having one of his agent’s eyes on Caelum has lessened his fears of both criminals escaping during the mayhem. 

And it shows that Noctis is reaching out to them. Be it Nyx or Gladiolus, he has requested an agent’s presence rather than a stranger’s. 

He should know better than to doubt his new CI. Running would only cut Noctis off from LBI resources he desperately needs. Ignis knows that, but the nagging feeling—that there is still little trust to be had between his new informant and the LBI—isn’t dissuaded by one fact. 

Nyx’s voice comes through the wire, and Ignis turns his attention back to eavesdropping. 

“I was in a meeting,” says Nyx. “I don’t appreciate having to explain to my partners why I have to leave. Make this quick. Is the ruby legitimate?”

“I’ll get it,” says Dino after a beat. 

Ignis clicks on his mouthpiece and whispers into the ears of every agent in the building: “All right, once Nyx confirms a visual on the ruby, we infiltrate the apartment.”

It doesn’t take long. Ignis wants to make sure Dino is holding the real thing, and he can at least trust Noctis to check the authenticity of the Zu Ruby. It takes a few minutes of examination, sprinkled with some comments from Noctis, before Noctis finishes his assessment.

“It’s real.”

“Good,” says Nyx. “I look forward to doing business with you. It’s a lovely ruby.”

Ignis gets back to all the plainclothes agents. “We’ve got our signal! Let’s go!” Ignis removes his headset, dropping it on the table. Aranea opens the back of the van, and all of them filter out toward the apartment building. 

By the time Ignis, Aranea, and Gladiolus make it to the apartment, Nyx already has Dino in cuffs. 

“Here it is,” says Noctis, holding up the ruby.

Ignis gestures to Sania Yeagre, his forensics expert. She takes the ruby from Noctis and places it in a velvet pouch, which then goes into a marked plastic bag. They’ll need another opinion on the ruby, but Ignis has no reason to doubt Noctis’ assessment.

“You turn, Noctis?” asks Dino, his mouth grinning but his nose and eyes showing a hint of contempt. 

“This is for Prom,” says Noctis, waving to Dino as he is carted away.

“Who is this Prompto?” asks Ignis as he reaches into the pocket of his blazer to withdrawal Noctis’ tracking device.

“A friend.”

“I appreciate your help,” says Ignis. He holds up the anklet. “I’m afraid that doesn’t mean you can go without wearing this now that our operation is over.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Noctis hikes up the leg of his trousers at the knee and kicks his foot onto a nearby chair. Ignis snaps it on and reactivates its settings. “I can’t imagine I’ll get out of one for the next three years.”

“You might, with good behavior. It’s not uncommon for criminal informants who’ve reformed.”

Noctis raises an eyebrow. “Huh, didn’t know that. Guess I’d better do what I can to help you.”

That earns him a smile from Ignis. “I guess you should. Welcome to the team, Noctis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're a team! \o/


	10. Chapter 10

Noctis finally gets an invitation into Ignis and Luna’s home. The dogs greet him at the door, tails wagging and tongues leaving sloppy rough kisses against his palms. As soon as he sits on the sofa, Umbra and Pryna scramble to climb into his lap.

“Umbra, Pryna, off.” 

Both dogs glance at Ignis before settling down at Noctis’ feet.

“They’re not allowed on the furniture,” says Ignis. 

Noctis is one-hundred percent sure that’s an Ignis rule that is broken by everyone else (and sometimes even Ignis as well), but he says nothing. Leaning over his knees, he offers them both ear scratches. They love it. Umbra nuzzles his snout into Noctis’ palm and licks it. 

“They seem quite fond of you. Pryna is usually more reserved around strangers.” 

“Guess they know I love dogs.” 

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “You’re sure you’re a stranger? Never been in my home?”

Noctis shakes his head. “No, this is the first time seeing it…” _From the inside._

There are two themes intertwining in the house. Modern bits of furniture are covered with lacy afghans in blues and yellows, sylleblossom patterns decorate the throw pillows and draperies, and the bookshelves are sparsely filled with dictionaries and vases. Despite that many brownstones in the area have clung to their antique appearance, someone had updated the walls. The wooden floors were recently polished, and a lovely ornate rug in blue and yellow and white stretches over the space in the middle of the seating area. Two dog beds sit together neatly against the wall of shelving.

“Let me guess—you picked the furniture and your roommate did the decorating?” asks Noctis, glancing at the theme of flowers in all the artwork hanging up. “Did she paint those?”

“They have no market value.”

“I’m not gonna steal them.”

“Right, you only steal items tied to Lucian history.” Ignis sits down in a chair across from Noctis. “Tell me, Noctis, why is that?”

Noctis studies Ignis’ expression carefully. The agent appears relaxed, his inquisitive nature stemming mostly from personal interest rather than professional. Not that it makes him trustworthy to share too much information. 

Noctis stops petting the dogs and leans back into the sofa.

“What have you figured out?” he asks.

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “You did ask me to help you find your father. Is there something you ought to tell me? Such as his ties to the Ring of the Lucii or all those Lucian artifacts you’ve stolen? Oh, and then there’s the matter of those paintings—the copies that Prince Mors famously marked as a lad. Yet the original ones hang in the Citadel. Why not aim for those?”

“I think one bust into the Citadel is enough for a lifetime,” says Noctis. 

“You’re not answering my question.”

“I get the feeling you already know the answer.”

“Are you a descendant of Prince Mors?”

A dry feeling creeps down Noctis’ throat. All that careful planning… Noctis should have stolen things unrelated to the royal family, things that had no ties to the Citadel. He thought all the bond forgeries and other little schemes were enough of a distraction, but all his thefts have been related to his family. Little else mattered to his heart.

“That’s a pretty wild claim,” says Noctis, when Ignis doesn’t stop staring him down. “Didn’t you open a history book? The royal family was chased out of the Citadel. Most of them died.”

“Yes, but not all. Not Prince Mors, who surely would have changed his name. Maybe he settled down and had children, and maybe one of them is your father.”

Ignis is eerily spot on, and Noctis feels the anxiety spread from his heavily pounding heart to his stomach. How much does he confirm? How much does he share? Cor would murder him with one glare if he found out Noctis revealed anything. It’s best to keep quiet, right? 

Except… Ignis doesn’t seem like such a bad guy. In fact, as far as they come, Ignis has everything Noctis doesn’t and just about everything he does—except for the criminal record and illegal activities that could fill an entire bookshelf with files at the bureau. They stand worlds apart if only because of Noctis’ history.

 _Trust no one._ Noctis grew up on those hard words. But how often does he ignore them? He trusts Cor and Weskham and Prompto. He trusts Cid and Cindy. There are people he can reach out to, and they will always be there for him. They’ve created their own little family.

“It’s a difficult situation,” starts Noctis. Cor will kill him, Cid will revive him with jumper cables and murder him again, and then Weskham will perform CPR just to slit his throat one last time.

“How difficult?”

“My dad’s in danger. And saying too much would put me in danger.”

Ignis frowns. “Who’s after your father?”

Noctis shrugs, exasperated by the question that he’s been hounding his guardians with for almost eighteen years. “I wish I knew. That stunt I pulled at the Citadel? If anyone else makes the same connection you did, that might put me at risk.” 

“Noctis, my team and boss all know how I caught you …” 

Noctis doesn’t think any of them are particularly untrustworthy, either. Even Clarus, who somewhat intimidates him, seems safe and familial. The kind of guy who would take a bullet for any of the agents he works with—and all of the people they’re in charge of helping. 

“They’re not the type of people to talk,” says Ignis. “None of them are gossips, and there are non-disclosure agreements to think of as well—lots of unnecessary paperwork. I promise you that none of us like paperwork at the bureau.” 

“I don’t know, you seem like a paperwork type of guy.” Noctis grins and is pleased when that earns him a small smile from Ignis.

“I merely handle all aspects of my job with professionalism. I assure you, there’s nothing I find enjoyable about paperwork except when it ends.”

“I personally recommend finding someone else to pawn it off on.” 

“Yes, well, don’t let me catch you, or I’ll double your desk workload. You can take care of all my team’s paperwork if you wish.”

Noctis grimaces. “Ouch, that’s harsh.”

“A mere necessity.” Ignis lets out a long sigh. “Let’s get something to drink and discuss more about your father, shall we?”

Noctis, whose mouth is still dry from earlier, nods his head, and follows Ignis into the kitchen.

~*~

Noctis doesn’t say much about his father, despite Ignis’ attempts to coax it out of him with supremely delicious hot chocolate. It helps that Luna arrives home not long after drinks have been poured, and Noctis latches onto the welcome distraction.

Luna walks with a determined grace and stops every few steps to pet her dogs. Her hair is usually up, but she has it down in beautiful curls, and she is dressed up in a cute outfit meant to emphasize her every good asset. And she has many of those. 

Someone has had her weekend outing with her girlfriend, and it shows in the way she smiles and glides through the kitchen, asking Noctis a little about himself. She asks nice questions. Ones that aren’t invasive.

“Do you like working with Ignis?” asks Luna, opening and closing cupboards as if looking for something and not finding it. Finally, she flips open the dishwasher and takes out a mug. She immediately begins fixing tea.

“It’s been good so far,” says Noctis.

“He makes hot chocolate right from the heavens, don’t you agree?” Luna nods at Noctis’ half-finished cup.

“Yeah, never tasted any this good.”

“The key is Altissian chocolate,” says Ignis.

“This is more than just fancy chocolate and whole milk,” says Noctis, swishing around the contents of his. The last of the whipped cream is swallowed by the chocolatey mix. “You added something…” His tongue knows. A bit of cinnamon, dairy whipped cream, and the smoothness of Altissian dark chocolate. Nutmeg? He takes another drink. Yes, definitely nutmeg, and a little bit of vanilla, too.

“Yes, well that’s all a secret recipe.”

“If you say so.” Noctis smiles at Ignis’ surprised look before he takes another sip. Weskham would be thrilled to know his taste-related training is being wasted on autumnal beverages.

“How was your date, Luna?” asks Ignis, turning to his roommate.

Luna removes her tea bag from her mug and tosses it in the trash a little too hard. “It was perfect until we stopped in at a little pet store. They had the shelter visiting, and they brought some of the adoptable dogs along.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh, yes! Crowe pulled me out of the store before I could buy any toys for Umbra and Pryna.”

“And bring home another dog,” remarks Ignis. “Thank her for me.”

“I might not have adopted one!”

Noctis listens to them bicker affectionately back and forth, like best friends or siblings who enjoy taking jabs at one another. He decides to stay out of the conversation. Dogs are awesome and need homes, and he’s in agreement that the house and yard are big enough to accommodate a third. No one let him have a pet growing up, and he’s been sore about the subject ever since.

As their “parents” argue, Noctis gets down on the floor and lets Umbra and Pryna climb all over him. The dogs love it and slime his face with kisses. 

“You won’t even let them on the furniture,” mutters Luna as she blows on the surface of her tea.

“It isn’t out of a dislike for the dogs, it’s simply to protect the upholstery from mud and claws.”

Luna huffs, strong enough that it kicks up tea and sends droplets to the island countertop. 

“We could get covers,” says Ignis helpfully. “Thick ones.”

“Unnecessary expense. Anyway, it’s now your job to buy the dogs some new toys.” 

Noctis considers the benefits of living with Luna. He envies Ignis for being able to live with these awesome dogs. 

Ignis finally glances over his way. “Whatever are you doing?”

Umbra slobbers all over Noctis’ hand.

“Petting your dogs?”

Luna giggles, and Ignis sighs.

“Please get off the floor. We should get you back home. I think this is enough for one day.” 

Noctis detects some disappointment in Ignis’ tone, but even if Luna hadn’t interrupted their drinks, Noctis wouldn’t have revealed much to Ignis. He has to come up with a safe version to recite—one that leaves out names or any identifiable details about the people he’s been surrounded with since he was born. And since he doesn’t know much about his enemies, he can’t share information he doesn’t have.

Noctis needs access to LBI resources, but he doesn’t need Ignis to work as his channel. Now that he has access to the building, he can trick his way into anywhere. Nothing will be off limits. Forge some paperwork, replicate a badge, steal a few pass cards—easy stuff to manage for a guy with his skills.

For now, he needs to gain Ignis’ trust, so he has to be careful with how much he can get away with. This is a trial period, which gives him time to study. Once he figures out the building and all the people in it—knows where every camera might betray evidence against him—he’ll take riskier steps.

He doesn’t have to let Ignis know everything. Given that he’s figured out Noctis’ lineage, it’s clear he already knows too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fond of this chapter, if only because I was attempting to capture the same feeling of family that Neal, Peter, and El have, but without making Noctis, Ignis, or Luna out of character. 
> 
> Noctis is smart in FFXV, but it's a ton more fun to work with him when his schooling is unconventional. FFXV makes it clear that Noctis is intelligent and always got great grades. I imagine he did with Weskham and Cor, too. :') 
> 
> I'll post up eleven soon, since...it follows this scene with Luna and Ignis talking. I'm starting to catch up with the chapters I've written. (I only have thirteen total, minus some I wrote that are faaaar ahead of these - scenes I didn't want to forget by the time I reached them. xD)


	11. Chapter 11

“I like him.”

Ignis doesn’t have to ask who Luna is referring to. He has just returned from the pet store with several new toys for the dogs (and managed to do so without bringing home a new family member), and Luna is curled up in a chair in the living room with her own game of King’s Knight. She sets her phone down on the coffee table when she finishes and smiles up at him.

“He’s attractive. Just like you said.” 

“Haven’t you seen him on television?”

“People are different from the image the media portrays. It’s no different for Noctis. He might look handsome on television, but in person? He’s gorgeous!” 

Ignis finishes taking off his shoes and putting on his slippers. The dogs circle around his legs like hungry sharks, eager for him to take the tags off their new toys. He fishes the scissors out of a drawer in the kitchen and begins his work at the island. It isn’t long before Luna slips into one of the stools and leans across the counter.

“Conspirator,” Ignis accuses. “You are not playing matchmaker. Remember what happened the last time?” 

He’s joking, of course. The date with Luna’s brother, Ravus, had only been part of a set-up to sneak in and take down some Tenebreian mafioso at a wedding. All Ignis needed was a plus one. Luna was the wedding planner and managed to overhear bits of incriminating conversation, and Ravus—an agent from Interpol—needed help taking them down. 

“Ravus says he had a lovely time,” teases Luna.

“Yes, I do believe he did.” 

Luna unlocks her phone and shows Ignis her background. It’s the photograph she managed to capture of her brother being pushed into the wedding cake by the angry bride after several arrests were made—including her new husband.

“Does Ravus know you have that?”

Luna shrugs. “He never needs to know, and I’ll never have to delete it. Just in case, I’ve emailed it to everyone I know and have several backups.” She pockets her phone and leans in closer. “But you’re changing the subject. What about Noctis?”

“Not my type.” 

“You don’t _have_ a type.”

“I have an idea of what my type might be.” Ignis has always imagined a boyfriend he can be intellectual equals with, someone who challenges him. Appearances aren’t a big deal—someone with good hygiene, of course, who dresses up well when necessary. This imaginary future husband has never had a face, because Ignis likes to think he’ll fall in love with someone’s heart and not their looks. He wants to find a caring individual whose beauty shines through his eyes. 

When being reminded of all these things, Ignis can’t help but think of how every single one applies to Noctis. Even earlier, when Noctis was on the floor with the dogs while they covered him in slobbery kisses, there was compassion bright within those blue eyes. A tenderness for animals that has even convinced the most suspicious canine. And Noctis certainly presents a challenge for Ignis every single day. They’re both smart and driven, even if their paths have only crossed because they were on opposite sides.

“He’s still a criminal,” says Ignis.

“He’s working for the LBI now.”

“How long does that last? I want to believe he’ll get better, but criminals slip. It’s an addiction for him to steal things and run cons, Luna. That thrill, that high—he’s going to chase after it.”

“Are you sure you’re not talking yourself out of it?” asks Luna, hands steepled beneath her chin. “You know criminals can reform, they only need someone to believe in them. I think you should believe in him. Support him. Fight like hell for his trust and give him some in turn.”

“Even if he does reform, that doesn’t mean we can be a couple.”

“Does the LBI have rules against romances?”

“Not necessarily…” Most law enforcement agencies have some rules about dating because the emotional involvement can lead to bad judgement on the field. In the LBI, that applies to relationships between agents, but Noctis is only a CI. The same rules don’t apply. Still…

“I’m not dating him.”

Luna huffs and steals one of the toys from the countertop. As she squeaks it, the dogs crowd at her feet. Both take off at a run when she tosses it toward the living room. 

“He’s nice.”

“Yes, but that’s probably so you’ll trust him. Did you still have your wallet?”

“My wallet is fine, and so is yours.” Luna wags a finger at him. “You’re being difficult with me! Do you think my dogs would love him if he were a real criminal?”

“He stole the Ring of the Lucii.”

“Yes, and then he gave it back. I saw the news, Ignis.” 

“He has made no effort to disguise his real reason for teaming up with the LBI, but he hasn’t shared enough information with me so that I can help him. I thought I could lure it out of him with hot chocolate, but he used your coming home as a distraction.” Noctis does have a long history of crimes to hide that would make any confession—even one that seems innocent at first—dangerous. Ignis isn’t thrilled to be reminded of this fact. It means there are complications that could end Noctis’ career as a CI and send him back to prison, most likely along with others. Unless Ignis grants Noctis full immunity and listens to him as a friend… But they might never reach that stage. They barely know one another right now. 

“We’re not even friends,” says Ignis out loud.

“Maybe you will be. Give it time.” 

The same time it might take Noctis to betray the bureau and disappear into the wind, Ignis thinks, but he doesn’t say it to Luna. She’s optimistic about their partnership. For a while, he ought to be as well.

“I’ll try to make the best of it for now,” Ignis promises.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Luna pecks him on the cheek and disappears, leaving him to distribute the remaining toys to the dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In White Collar, there’s an episode that implies that a CI and the agent they work with cannot date, but I decided to bend the rules for this because of the direction it heads. 
> 
> I feel like adding the Lena Headey (Luna's VA in Kingsglaive) was in White Collar, too! Only for an episode—she played an internet-savvy person who slept with Mozzie.


	12. Chapter 12

Noctis has never worked a normal job. The kind where one gets up in the morning, has breakfast, and then heads out for the week day to perform tasks designated by bosses. That kind of job.

It’s weird, working for the LBI. He enjoys everyone’s company. Aranea can be funny and sharp, and Nyx is easygoing and quiet. It’s a little harder for Noctis to warm up to Gladiolus—Clarus is much easier to talk to than his son. Both of them have a mutual agreement to work together without much chatter, but Noctis thinks he can work on that guard and get on Gladiolus’ good side with a little time.

Ignis is more complicated. Whenever Ignis smiles, Noctis knows he’s a goner. Part of him hates how the agent affects him. Love is a distraction from his mission to find his dad, and Ignis lives in a different world, where people get up every morning around the same time and sleeping in never lasts beyond eight in the morning. Maybe the dogs and Luna brewing coffee greet him downstairs every morning. Ignis doesn’t fret during his sleep because he doesn’t have a tracking anklet to make him uncomfortable. His friends and family aren’t all criminals.

Noctis’ friends and family weren’t always, either, but circumstance pushed them into a lifestyle that none of them can change. With the ground ripped out from under their feet, how can they find stability? Everything has been dismantled. Cor, Cid, and Weskham have all figured out how to look normal on the outside, but not one of them doesn’t have a history of criminal activity. 

And yet for all the worldly differences between his world and Ignis’, Noctis already knows he wants something more between them.

Noctis sets his alarm not for work, but for Ignis. To see him every morning and try to tease a smile from those beautiful lips. The agent always smells wonderful, too, and keeps himself groomed. Even when he’s a little disheveled at the end of the day—no, especially when he’s disheveled—he looks gorgeous to Noctis. He’s willing to joke and put a little trust in Noctis by the end of each day. It builds and builds, and Ignis asks questions about Noctis’ dad sometimes, to remind him that he is still willing to help.

That only makes Noctis fall harder for him.

Working for the LBI will ruin him, Noctis realizes, and it’ll be for the strangest of reasons. It’ll be because an agent with a nice smile can tempt him from everything he has grown up with and made him ache to be an honest man Ignis might love.

~*~

The job involves a lot of travel. During these times, Noctis’ anklet is set to a radius of within one hundred feet to one of its key chips—usually the one Ignis carries. This tight leash makes it difficult for Noctis to have a moment of privacy to do anything suspicious. In order to prevent it from going off on accident, Noctis has to inform Ignis every time he so much as needs the bathroom or wants to stop for a doughnut, because losing sight of the agent means potentially stepping outside of range. He hates that even an accidental breach could get him in trouble.

Even Ignis doesn’t care for it, which is why both of them are grumpy in the car on the way to Wiz’s Chocobo Post. Ignis won’t allow Noctis to play any music in the car, and as a result, Noctis sulks while making a point to request the bathroom at every pit stop available. He buys liters of soda and drinks them down, which means needing to pee at every convenience store. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Ignis mutters as they pull into a Coernix station in the Duscae region.

“I never said I wasn’t.” Noctis hops cheerfully out of the car and trots inside to request the bathroom, which is usually locked by the shopkeeper. He calls out behind him. “Maybe you should get some caffeine. Oh, look, they have Ebony!”

Over the past few weeks, he has discovered that his partner enjoys canned coffee to absurd levels. Ignis walks into work with one can in his hand and a second to store in the breakroom fridge. It’s safe to assume he has a stash at home, too. Noctis regrets not paying attention when Ignis made that hot chocolate, to see what else was in the fridge.

Noctis needs to find an excuse soon to drop in more often to visit Luna and the dogs. It might come in handy to get better acquainted with the two pups if he ever needs to break in.

When Noctis steps out of the bathroom, Ignis is indeed buying two cans of Ebony. Noctis grins at him, but the agent only scowls in return. Perhaps it would be wise to lay off the soda and restroom breaks so they can finally reach their destination.

Once they’re back in the car, Noctis decides it would be safest to talk work. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about this case yet, and Ignis hasn’t had the chance to properly fill him in on the details.

“How many chocobos went missing?” asks Noctis.

“Just a mother and some of her hatchlings. Didn’t you read the file at the bureau?” 

Great, Ignis sounds even more exasperated. Noctis glanced at the file only briefly, but Nyx called him away to reset his anklet so it’s not exactly his fault he didn’t have a chance to read through the entire thing.

“There were three chocochicks total,” continues Ignis. He takes a sip of his coffee as pause. “The mother is from high quality breeding stock, as are her chicks. They’ll be worth a fortune on the market. They’ll likely smuggle them out of the country to sell in Niflheim or Accordo. We have eyes on the ports right now, but it’s doubtful they’ll be using any legal channels.”

“Or they’ll wait until the fuss dies down.”

“We still need to find them fast. We can’t let them slip out of the country.”

Prompto knows a lot about chocobos and the business of trade revolving around them, but Noctis doesn’t want to contact him in front of Ignis. His best friend would kill him for making his presence known to a federal agent.

Well, maybe Prompto wouldn’t _kill_ Noctis, but he would whine a long time.

Noctis leans his head back and stares out the window. They’re driving by Alstor Slough, which means they should be close. Only a mile or two until they hit the post. It is mid-morning, and the sun is gleaming across the water.

“I bet there’s some nice fishing down there,” says Noctis.

“You’re an angler, too?”

“A pro,” says Noctis, allowing his pride to come before wisdom.

“There aren’t many places to fish in Insomnia. I hope you have a legal fishing permit.”

“I haven’t fished in a while.” It’s true—since being carted off to prison, Noctis hasn’t had a chance to do it. It’s also true that his permit is for someone named “Garr Kelvin” rather than any of Noctis’ known aliases. It is the only time Noctis has ever used that name, which makes him pretty confident Ignis hasn’t traced it back to him.

Truth is, Garr Kelvin is a fictional king in a video game Noctis played as a teenager. Ignis would never understand the reference.

“I guess I could get a new permit,” says Noctis. “Not like you’re tracking me down now.”

“Oh, but I am.” Ignis points briefly at Noctis’ ankle.

Noctis frowns as Ignis lets out a soft laugh. “Glad I could amuse you. Nice to see you smile today.”

The last statement isn’t so much sarcasm as truth, but Noctis doesn’t need Ignis to know that.

“Here we are,” says Ignis. 

Wiz’s sign comes into view. The chocobo post is one of the largest in the world. Wiz’s family witnessed a decline in the birds’ population and started up one of the biggest efforts to breed them for release. Not long after taking up the task of restoring their numbers, the family also discovered that the birds were easily domesticated. Riding them became a popular pastime across the country, and soon it spread around Eos. 

Wiz’s family has been taking care of the birds for centuries. Wars were fought on the backs of chocobos, but nowadays, the birds enjoy a far less stressful experience as people have taken up riding as a hobby. Races are popular in places like Niflheim, but Wiz himself campaigned to see laws in Lucis put in place to stop the cruel breeding and animal abuse that stemmed from such a practice. There are other places across the world that take care of birds, but none have Wiz’s legacy.

Wiz owns acres and acres of land, and the birds are able to roam in large pens. There is an obvious need for security, however, and electric cables have been strapped to the top of the ten-foot chain-link fences. Not to keep the birds in, but to keep people out. Ignis and Noctis have to provide identification and sign in to be allowed through the gates. 

Despite being a born billionaire, Wiz seems like any other man native to Duscae’s countryside. He greets them on the stairs of his offices and guides them inside. The rustic décor is cute and blends well with the coniferous trees and streams known in the area. Little wooden plaques shaped like fish hang over the doors of everyone’s offices, a name engraved into the wood of each one. They reach Wiz’s office at the end of the hallway. 

Behind Wiz’s desk is a wall of windows overlooking the slough. The chairs are made with unshaven branches of wood, upholstered with thick textiles on the seats and backs. Noctis plops into one, displacing a salmon-shaped pillow to the floor. The light fixtures hanging from the ceiling are shaped like camping lanterns. 

A chocobo clock clicks in the corner, dangerously close to the hour. Noctis tenses where he sits in anticipation for its loud kwehs only minutes away.

“I know you spoke with agents in Duscae this morning, but is there anything you might’ve forgotten to mention to them?” asks Ignis as he sits in a chair across from Wiz’s desk.

Wiz leans back in his chair and sighs. “I don’t know. I’m really worried about her and the babies. It isn’t right to be moving them around so young. We only do that if the eggs or the hatchlings are in danger in the wild, for the sake of conservation.” 

“They’ll try to smuggle them out without the mother, when they’re still young,” says Noctis, realizing that they don’t have much time to retrieve them. “They might wait to transport the mother, but she’s not as profitable, anyway.”

Noctis badly wants to slip away and contact Prompto for help. Despite his lack of knowledge when it comes to chocobos, he thinks they’re cute, and no animal deserves to be put into a stressful situation for profit.

“Do they have tags?” asks Ignis.

Everyone jumps as the chocobo clock goes off suddenly. Noctis grits his teeth and waits it out. Only after the chocobo is back behind its little doors does Wiz answer Ignis.

“No, they were too young. We don’t tag them when they’re that little—they grow fast their first few weeks, and the bands can chafe their poor little legs. We wait till they’re nine weeks old.”

“The thieves would’ve removed them by now if they had been tagged,” says Noctis. “They’ll either have their own ship or someone they’ve got ready to smuggle them out, even if they use the main shipment docks in the country.”

Noctis could ask Cid about it; he has some friends along the Lucian coast who might be able to spot birds slipping out of the country. The tough part is getting Cid to cooperate when he knows this is for a federal investigation. Maybe if Noctis recruits Prompto’s help, they can convince Cid together. 

“How much are these chocobos worth?” asks Noctis. 

“The mother is worth five million, but each chick is worth three times that cost.”

That is a lot of money—a small fortune on which any person could comfortably retire. Not that most criminals are in the business of retiring. There is never one last job before they settle down; not when there are other cons to pull and billions to be made. 

Noctis is certain that these people aren’t amateurs, too. They’re people familiar with the chocobo industry, possibly a group that often smuggles creatures across borders. That should make the search easier, but he can’t be certain, and he’s not comfortable with the short time limit they have left in which to find the birds. He won’t be going home to Cid’s loft apartment at the end of the night; he’ll be fighting sleep at the bureau as soon as they make it back to Insomnia.

If he has any wish to rest tonight, he’s going to have to call in some favors as soon as he has some time alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Garr Kelvin” is 100% a Tales of Destiny reference. In the English translation, they’ve changed his name from Woodrow, and with Noctis using “Gar”—which Ignis acknowledges—I wanted to change it to something less traceable but still silly enough for Noct to use.


	13. Chapter 13

The clock ticks perilously while Ignis organizes his team to find any leads on the disappearance of Wiz’s chocobos. They’ve sent out alerts to the police, coast guard, and just about any law enforcement agency in Lucis. 

During that crucial time, Noctis slips away several times. They’re back at the bureau, and Noctis has the freedom of his two-mile radius. His disappearance wouldn’t be a big deal to Ignis if they weren’t actively working on a case. Everyone is expected to pitch in, even if it means staying later than normal. 

“Where do you think he’s going?” asks Nyx, sitting in his chair backwards at Ignis’ desk.

“I have no idea. He was suspiciously quiet on the way back to Insomnia.” They only returned to the city an hour ago, and if not for the longer shift, Ignis could be home with a book and a glass of wine. “Something’s going on.”

“Do you think he knows more than he’s letting on?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think he’s involved, but I wonder if he knows who is.” Ignis thinks of Dino and the strange conversation they overheard during the operation to arrest him. Noctis has a lot of ties to criminals all over the world. “When he gets back, I’ll question him.”

Ignis and Nyx are searching databases for known criminals who have a history with chocobo breeding, illegal racing, and other related activities. Gladiolus is keeping in touch with all law enforcement agencies while Aranea filters through the information coming in through the hotline. 

Noctis steps out of the elevator and rejoins them twenty minutes following their conversation, and they’re no closer to any leads.

“Where were you?” asks Ignis, cutting right to the point. 

“Helping with the case. I think I might know a few names to put down in your search.” 

“And how did you acquire these names?” asks Ignis, still pulling up the search window on his computer to start typing them in.

Noctis shrugs. “Does it matter, as long as we catch them?”

“That depends on how much evidence we find and if we have any probable cause to obtain warrants for searches,” says Nyx.

“Yeah, well, let’s start with a name. The most likely guy you want to look at is Saleh Mandar.” 

“Salamander?”

“No, he goes by Sal _eh_.” Pause. “Man _dar_.” Noctis then spells it out, letter by letter, and Ignis types it into the search. “Slightly different pronunciation. But you’re right—the name comes from ‘salamander’. No one knows his real name.”

Saleh Mandar turns out to have quite the criminal history in Accordo, smuggling wildlife into the country, often for fighting and trophy hunting purposes. His location is unknown, but he was last seen in Cartanica not long before the disappearance of several chocobos from a farm near the city. Aside from smuggling animals, he also deals in arms and drugs. There are also several murders connected with his alleged operations.

“This man is positively dangerous,” mutters Ignis. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard Interpol has been searching for him.” 

“And how did you come by this name?” Ignis is used to knowing almost all the names of the most wanted criminals, even in other countries. Ravus often keeps him informed, barring any NDAs that prevent them from talking around the kitchen table about their work.

“A friend who’s familiar with boats says Mandar’s men are always lurking around docks in Lucis. He’s been at this for nearly twenty years, and he’s pretty good at blackmailing people into favors—usually forcing them to help in his operations.” 

“Your friend was one of them?”

“No. He’d be dead if he had worked with this guy. Mandar blackmails someone into helping him, and then he orders his men to kill them.”

“That explains the murders,” pipes up Nyx. “Seems he knows plenty about chocobos, too—was one of the people who donated the group opposing the ban on races.”

“The guy’s total trash,” says Aranea, her shadow falling across Ignis’ desk. “We’re not gonna be able to catch this guy easily. I know a Niflheim agent who has been after Mandar for a while now.” 

“Loqi?” asks Nyx.

“Yeah, the very same.” 

Ignis only knows some of Aranea’s history with Loqi Tummelt. Like Aranea, Loqi is the child of a diplomat. The two are as close to childhood friends as any kids traveling the world and changing homes every few weeks might be. Aranea doesn’t tend to share much about her background, but Loqi is an agent in Niflheim who cooperates with them from time to time.

Loqi is also ruthless in his pursuits—even when it puts him in a dangerous position. If he hasn’t caught Saleh Mandar, then the LBI isn’t likely to catch him either. The best they can hope for is a retrieval of the birds and the arrest of some of his men. If they hand those men over to Interpol, it’ll be up to them to track down and arrest the bigger criminal.

“This is a difficult case, and we have no idea if he’s behind this,” says Ignis. “I appreciate this information, Noctis, but unless we have a lead, we could be chasing down the wrong man in this particular case. I don’t want to lose those chocobos.”

Noctis nods. “Yeah, I get that. Wiz would be heartbroken if his birds ended up on a racetrack.”

“Indeed.”

They go through some of the other names Noctis acquired, but none of them seem nearly as vicious or clever as Saleh Mandar and his operations. Everyone is in full agreement that the crime couldn’t have been pulled off by amateurs. Wiz’s ranch is well guarded and secure. 

“I want to see the interviews with the workers,” says Ignis to Nyx. Every interview was recorded, and maybe he’ll be able to recognize something no one else did—any sign of deception from a worker who could very well be part of the operation. “I also want to see Wiz’s employment records.”

Ignis doubts a new employee would be responsible. The criminals would bring in someone months or even years ahead of time. That takes a great deal of loyalty, premeditation, and patience. Mandar is the most professional man on the list. He’ll have top members of his organization who are willing to carry things out for years at a time if the payoff is great enough. When a single chocobo is worth millions and the mother can be bred again—and her chicks bred down the road—no seasoned criminal is going to question waiting a year or five for the perfect time to steal the birds. 

Ignis might even need to chat with some of the employees in person and drop a few names, just to see the reactions. But first, he’ll look at the tapes and employee records, and most regrettably, he’ll be looking into Noctis and his present company more closely to see if he can find out where this information about Mandar came from and who might be able to help him take down one of the worst organizations in Eos.

~*~

“Hey, Boss? Can I talk to you?” Aranea folds her arms across her chest and nods at the meeting room. 

Ignis follows her. Once the door is closed, she turns her back to the glass, where others might be able to read her lips. 

“Did you look into it?” asks Ignis, angling his own body so that it would be difficult for any agents to make out what he’s saying. But it isn’t the agents he is worried about. It is Noctis, who is eyeing them intently from his desk.

“Yeah. Cid Sophiar and Cindy Aurum are clean. You said you looked into ‘em already, but why have me check again?”

“A gut feeling,” says Ignis, too serious about the matter to be embarrassed. “Cid took an immediate dislike to me simply for being a federal agent.”

“Even decent people mistrust law enforcement—and not without good reason. I’m not sure that says much about the guy.”

“He knows what Noctis has done and still let him into his home. Not that I think he’ll allow Caelum to step a toe out of line without reprimand. He’s an intimidating man.” 

Aranea lets out a snort of laughter. “Okay, so he’s a stern character. What of it? Do you think Noctis is planning something? I hope it’s not related to this case.”

“No, Noctis isn’t the type of man to get involved with someone like Mandar. He’s got a heart.” The men working for Mandar will be just as calculating and sinister as their boss. “I think Noctis has connections to other criminals. I want to know who they are. We can’t focus on that with this chocobo situation, but once the birds are retrieved, we need to investigate all of Noctis’ friends. I’d like to know who they are, even if we can’t do anything about them.”

“Fair enough. Anything else?”

“I expect you won’t be telling Noctis about any of this.”

“Yeah, obviously I’m not breathing a word to Caelum. He’s watching us like a hawk, isn’t he?”

Ignis glances over his shoulder towards the glass. “Yes, he is. He’s hoping to read our body language and our lips. Any information you have on him, make sure you come to me with it. Be careful around him. He’ll want to read any paperwork he thinks is about him.”

Aranea smirks, eyes bright from the thought of the challenge. “Let him try.”

“I’d rather he not.” Ignis sighs. “All right, enough about this. We’ll discuss Noctis and his connections later. What we need to focus on is retrieving the chocobos before they’re taken out of the country or sold.”

“Got it, Boss.” Aranea is the first to leave the room. Ignis remains behind, staring out the windows at the city of Insomnia. A city that has many secrets and millions of citizens to protect—as well as a few dozen criminals lurking in its darker shadows and even quite a few with offices and skyscrapers. Ignis wants to make a difference in it, and he’s hoping Noctis does, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Saleh is a character from Tales of Rebirth, but that has little to do with the name. I was running out of characters from FFXV, so I pulled some weird ass idea out, and I decided to play off the first word that came to me. (P.S. Salamanders are adorable.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll upload at least two chapters tonight, since I think they would be best read together.

Lemonade and a lecture. Not an uncommon occurrence in Cid’s household, but it has been a few years, and Noctis was a dumb kid back then. Cid sits across from Prompto and Noctis at the table, gulping down every glass Cindy refills, eyes narrowed at the boys across from the table.

It makes Noctis feel small. Beside him, Prompto bounces his leg and chews on his fingernails. They might as well be a couple of little kids, and it wouldn’t surprise Noctis if Cid doesn’t see them as two adults. It would even be a bit of a stretch to say he sees Cor as anything more than a child, and Cor is _old_. Cid is just…well, especially old.

“You’re going after Mandar,” says Cid after some time.

“For the chocobos,” whines Prompto. 

“Even with the feds on your side, Mandar is dangerous.” Cid draws a tight slit across his throat with one finger. “Nastiest son of a gun I’ve ever had the displeasure of meetin’. I don’t like you in on this, Noct.” The gaze softens.

“It’s my job now.” One that Noctis is growing fonder of with each passing day, but he’s smart enough not to share that information with anyone—not even with Prompto.

Cid curls his nose. “Yeah, yer a fed now.” 

“But I’m out of prison.”

“Yeah? Well, look what got you there in the first place! Stealin’ that damned ring.” Cid wags a finger at Noctis, each jab sharp enough that the few feet of table in between them isn’t much of a buffer. That man doesn’t even have to touch him for Noctis to feel each and every stab against his chest, like Cid knows how to manipulate the air around them during his lectures. “I hope you get this nonsense about findin’ yer daddy out of yer head, or I’m gonna make yer life real hard, boy. Yer playin’ with fire, and you can’t trust them feds.”

“They can’t trust me, either.”

Cid leans back in his chair and waits for Cindy to finish topping off his glass before he tips it back and gulps a good bit of it down.

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” warns Noctis.

“You know what’s not good to have too much of? The LBI. The government. Saleh fucking Mandar. Only thing worse than him is the people after your daddy.”

“If I take down Mandar’s operations, wouldn’t that mean I might be able to tackle this mysterious organization you’re always refusing to tell me about?”

Cid wags his finger again. “It’s a damn good thing I haven’t told you! You’ve been an idiot lately. I know you miss yer daddy, but things ain’t gonna get better if you end up dead.”

Noctis dares to smile. “I’m only an idiot ‘lately’? Does that mean you know I’m smar—” 

Cid’s look makes him quiet real fast. Even Cindy shoots him a warning glare. Thin ice. Noctis lives on it, but sometimes, it’s not worth treading over—especially not for petty shit like polishing his ego.

“I’m gonna help you with everything I know about Mandar,” says Cid. “I’m only doing this for yer daddy. I know he wouldn’t want you killed.”

Prompto and Cindy wear the exact expression as Noctis. _Bullshit, Cid, you just don’t want to admit you care._

“Can you just tell me everything you know?” pleads Noctis.

Cid nods to Cindy, who stands and disappears into the kitchen.

“I think we can figure out where he’s operating from, and if yer lucky, he’ll have the chocobos with him. He likes to stay nearby for the biggest operations. He can’t trust his men with something this big. Those chocobos are worth a fortune, so it wouldn’t be surprise me if he’s got them with him at all times. Mandar’s paranoid. Yer gonna need to use that to your advantage.”

Cindy returns with two maps and a fistful of highlighters and spreads everything out on the table.

“Thank you, Cindy,” says Cid, flattening the Lucis map at its creases and snatching up an orange marker. “All right, boys, listen carefully. Mandar doesn’t operate in Galdin much. Too much security on the people coming in and out of the port.” Cid crosses out Galdin. “He likes Insomnia—the high population makes his criminal activities blend in. His other favorite area is Cape Shawe.” Cid draws out the Insomnia map and makes circles and crosses at each of the ports. “Now, I doubt he’s coming through Insomnia with them chocobos.”

Noctis somehow doubts that Mandar would be working through Insomnia, either. “Shawe would be his best bet—little security, no smuggling large birds into the city. It’s rural enough.”

Cid points his marker at Noctis and nods. “Now, back when I was working on ships years ago, I did my best to avoid Mandar. Word had it he has men operating deep in Malmalam Thicket, in some old cabins. Lots of people thought he might hide out in Old Lestallum, but there’re too many locals who don’t put up with that kind of riffraff. Good people.” Cid lets out a soft ‘tsk’ and shakes his head. 

“Any idea how we might be able to find out about these cabins in Malmalam?” asks Noctis. “I can’t send Ignis in there, spook them, and let Mandar and the chocobos get away…”

“Old lady named Kimya lives up there. Hasn’t been too happy about what’s been happening in those woods. Send Prompto up there to ask her questions. No feds.” 

Prompto squeaks. “Me?”

Cid grunts and taps his highlighter against the table in an intimidating beat. “Yeah, you. This is yer job.”

“I don’t work for the feds!” 

“You don’t have to, you just need to ask Kimya some questions and gather enough info to let Noctis do his job. I’ll let her know yer comin’.” 

Prompto deflates in his seat and sighs. “Fine.” 

“Noct!” Cid snaps. 

Noctis, by habit, draws his back up tighter and straightens his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“You wait till Prompto gets his info and make sure you don’t let the feds into the thicket until he’s out safely, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Dismissed.” Cid waves them away, and Noctis gulps down the remainder of his mostly-warm lemonade before retreating with Prompto upstairs to his loft. 

~*~

Noctis waits most of the following day for any texts from Prompto regarding Kimya and her information. In the meantime, Ignis is a driven man, determined to bring down Mandar and turn him over to Interpol. In fact, there is already an agent from Interpol in the building, and Noctis immediately doesn’t like him. The feeling appears to be mutual. The Interpol agent treats Noctis like a criminal. Being looked down upon is a good way for Noctis to take a dislike to someone, but that isn’t all that bothers Noctis.

Ravus Nox Fleuret has nothing in common with his sister except their equally good looks, and he stays close to Ignis. It becomes apparent to Noctis in less than a minute that Ravus is more than glad to be in close proximity to Ignis, but the federal agent acts oblivious. Well, Noctis hopes it’s an act.

Noctis also doesn’t like Interpol after they closed in on him in Altissia before he was able to retrieve an important artifact. He had to flee Accordo and slip back into Lucis after that, and his problems have only gotten worse since then.

Ravus is upsettingly handy, too. He fixes the coffeemaker in the break room and brews two cups—one for him, one for Ignis. He sets a mug in front of Ignis before smugly taking a seat across from him.

“Thank you, Ravus,” says Ignis softly as he skims over Interpol files. 

“Why not bring everyone a cup?” asks Noctis.

“I only have two hands.” Ravus takes a sip of his coffee to hide the smirk that he means for Noctis to catch anyway.

“You don’t drink coffee,” states Ignis without glancing up from his paperwork. “Ravus is an agent, not hired staff.” Ignis reaches for his cup and takes a sip. 

“What about Nyx? Aranea? They like coffee.” Noctis nods at the other two agents within the room. 

Aranea snorts and goes back to her email exchange with some Niflheim agent named Loqi. Nyx raises an eyebrow at Noctis from over his laptop. All right, Noctis could be as transparent as Ravus at this point, and who could blame him with the competition? Ravus doesn’t have any disadvantages. The prosthetic arm he wears is completely functional and not obvious or ugly, and Ignis isn’t shallow enough to dislike someone over a missing body part unless they lost it from doing something stupid. 

Which means Noctis should avoid telling him about why he has a bit of a limp. Jumping out of a three-story building in Altissia as a kid and shattering a kneecap turned out to be more punishment than whatever Weskham had in store for him for stealing liquor from his restaurant and selling it to buy video games. Meanwhile, Noctis can bet Ravus lost his arm by spying on a criminal organization. Some groups take off fingers and limbs while torturing their victims into a confession or if they feel betrayed by one of their members. 

…All right, that crazy story sounds like something _Prompto_ would come up with. Noctis will have to ask Luna for a truthful account of what happened. She seems the type to spill any dirt she can on her brother. Noctis can only hope it is over something dumb, but he can’t imagine that tripping down some stairs ungracefully would ever land someone with a prosthetic.

Ravus notices him staring at the arm and smiles. “Are you even working on this case?”

“Sure am,” says Noctis, who meant to feign engagement while waiting on Prompto to contact him. He would even argue he has been doing more for this case than the other agents, if only because he has connections that the rest of them don’t. It is at the tip of his tongue to say, _“Face it, you need me—I’m the only one who’ll be able to help with this case in the end.”_

That doesn’t give Ignis his due credit, however, for all that he puts into every case. Noctis clamps his mouth shut, grabs a file, and reads. Most of these files talk about Mandar’s operations in other countries and how he uses others to do his dirty work. 

“Do you think Mandar is even in the country?” asks Nyx after some time.

“He is,” says Noctis, and everyone stares at him. “He doesn’t trust his men to handle everything. He’s going to keep those chocobos close until they’re smuggled out of the country, and then he’ll leave separately. Maybe even publicly, to keep up an innocent appearance. Interpol is interested in him, but you lack evidence, don’t you?” Noctis looks expectantly at Ravus for an answer.

“We want to take down his whole operation, yes. We have no hard evidence—only plenty of loose ties to know what he’s involved in, but nothing to hold him accountable in a court.” Ravus scowls and steeples his hands beneath his chin. “We need hard evidence that he’s involved with this theft.”

Maybe if Prompto snaps a million pictures with his handy camera of Mandar near the chocobos and offers them to the LBI and Interpol, Mandar can’t lie his way out. 

“Excuse me. Bathroom.” Noctis stands and retreats from the meeting room. Once inside the privacy of a stall, he slips out his phone and begins typing up a message to Prompto.

_We need evidence on Mandar. If we just retrieve the chocobos, he’ll be able to do this again._

Noctis prays Malmalam Thicket has cell reception. Even though he isn’t sure if Prompto will get his message soon, he leans against the stall door and waits for a response.

It takes a few minutes before Prompto replies, and when he does, it is with a paragraph.

_He’s inside with them. You’re right—there’s nothing we can do to pin this on him right now. They’re not long from loading them up, which means he’s leaving soon. What if I were to get caught by his men? I can look like a dumb tourist who took too many photos, but I’ll mail the incriminating pics before I get caught and delete them off my camera. You have to bust in here to save me, right? If Mandar’s here with his men when they come to my rescue, they have to hold him accountable!_

_No! What the heck are you thinking?_ Noctis slams his thumb down on the ‘send’ button frantically. If something happens to Prompto, there will be several people who murder him—starting with Cid and Cindy. _I have a plan. Do you think Kimya would lie for us and pretend she was captured for taking pictures of them? That way no one actually gets kidnapped._

_Let me ask her._ A few minutes later, Prompto replies: _Yeah, Kimya says she’ll play along with your plan as long as you promise to capture Mandar. Tell the Suit that Kimya took these pictures and sent them to a friend. Leave my name out of it._

The attachments come in. Noctis sends them over to the phone Ignis gave him and deletes the original messages from his spare. It isn’t unlikely Ignis already suspects he has a secondary phone, but Noctis isn’t about to reveal it to him outright. He spends the next few minutes discussing the details of his plan with Prompto—what Kimya should lie about, and what story Noctis will feed Ignis. They can’t have any inaccuracies in their stories. After Noctis is confident they’re covered, he hurries back to the meeting room.

“Ignis, I need to talk to you,” he says, pretending to be out of breath to build up the suspense. 

Ignis stands and herds him out of the room and into a quiet corner of the office. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve had a friend gathering information on Mandar to help our case. He went to speak with a woman who lives in an area where supposedly they have activity going on, but she seems to have been caught while taking pictures of them. She managed to send my friend a few of them before she was captured.” Noctis makes sure to pull up the photo gallery instead of the text he sent to himself, and flips through them with Ignis. 

“Is this what’s been distracting you, is waiting to hear back from your friend?” Ignis asks. “Who have you been in contact with?”

Noctis quiets.

“Another criminal, then.”

“He’s a good guy, I promise. And Kimya—the woman—she doesn’t deserve this. She’s just a civilian who got tired of Mandar operating in her woods.”

Ignis sighs and rubs a hand over his face before narrowing his eyes at Noctis. “How could you involve anyone else and put them in danger?” His voice raises, drawing the attention of others around him. “We have to go in and get her. Do you know where she’s being kept?”

Noctis nods. Teasing Ignis is fun, but angering him? Not so much. That stings in ways he hadn’t expected it to, especially when he’s doing this to keep Prompto from doing something stupid. Leave it to Prompto to risk his neck when chocobos are involved. 

“Malmalam Thicket,” whispers Noctis.

“Good. We’ll head there now.” Ignis goes to his desk and yanks his jacket off the back of it before returning to the meeting room to begin a rescue operation for a person who doesn’t need saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Noct. Why do you do this? :'(


	15. Chapter 15

A lot could go wrong with blowing their way into Mandar’s operations, and Ignis knows they’re relying on a lead given through a criminal by another criminal, but… A woman’s life is in danger. Someone who was willing to risk her neck to get them evidence is now Mandar’s hostage. 

The LBI decides to take an aggressive approach. They fly their helicopters in and make their presence known. Noctis objects to their plan immediately, but he should know by now that Ignis must follow LBI protocol for hostage situations. 

“What will you negotiate with?” asks Noctis as their helicopter lands on a clearing near the Maidenwater. Local law enforcement has enshrined the area, filtering in through the trees to create a barrier. There isn’t anywhere for the men to escape except through rocky terrain, and they aren’t going to risk transporting the chocobos in a situation where the stress might kill the birds. 

“We can offer Mandar’s men lesser sentences if they cooperate with us and give up their boss.”

“Shouldn’t you infiltrate? They might look for ways to escape out of these woods…”

“They don’t stand a chance with escape, Noctis.” 

They hop out of the helicopter and onto the grass below. Ignis’ legs feel a bit shaky from the hour-long journey from Insomnia.

“No bathroom?” asks Noctis, glancing around.

They are out far enough that civilization is at least a good mile or two away. There’s a military base down the road, not far from the entrance to the camping grounds near Malmalam. Police have already skimmed the area to see if there are any campers, but it is almost winter and there was only one outdoorsy fellow spotted in the area. He gave a statement that he hasn’t seen much besides a few cars along the roads—expensive vehicles that seem out of place in the wilderness.

The cars probably belong to Mandar’s people. Which means Noctis’ information is likely correct. That is a small relief to Ignis, who hasn’t adjusted to putting much trust in his informant yet.

Noctis paces a lot when they reach their rendezvous point with other agents and police. Ravus waits for them beneath a quickly erected tent, where Clarus and Nyx are explaining the perimeter around the area to the sheriff and several others. 

There is something more going on with Noctis, but Ignis can’t afford to be distracted and mess up a single element of this rescue. He relies on the tracking anklet keep Noctis within range and sets to work, organizing a way to get in touch with Mandar’s men. Someone has found a camera dropped in the area, too, somewhere near the main trail. It appears to be Kimya’s from the evidence found on it, including pictures of four chocobos—one adult and three babies. Was the device dropped in a struggle when Mandar’s people captured her?

“Do you think they’ll add a murder charge to their sentencing?” asks Ignis.

Ravus frowns. “I don’t know either way. That’s why it’s imperative that our perimeter is air-tight.”

“Oh, it is,” says Nyx. “SWAT has every entrance and exit surrounded, along with any rough terrain Mandar’s men would risk on foot. There’s no way they’re getting out of this.”

“That doesn’t mean they won’t hurt Kimya.” The dread sinks deep into Ignis’ belly. Art and tax crimes don’t often involve anyone dying. Chocobo theft is bad enough, but kidnapping and possible murder being added to the situation have Ignis on edge. Stress has always been part of his job, but there have always been certain branches of the LBI he has been grateful not to work in. And he feels even more grateful that some people can stomach the harder, more heartbreaking work.

Luckily for him, Clarus will be the one in charge of negotiations in order to rescue Kimya Auburnbrie. They are taking no chances, and Clarus has experience in this field. Ignis doesn’t. 

Ignis goes in with Clarus and team of SWAT. They have a general idea of what buildings are in the area from sweeping helicopters over the region. Aside from Kimya’s little hut, there are also a few other cabins further into the woods. They hope to corner most of Mandar’s people in that location and convince them to release the suspect. 

Noctis keeps close to Ignis’ side, not drifting too far out of range. With his tracking anklet set to remain close to Ignis’ key, there is only so far he would be able to go, anyway. He seems fidgety, but it could be the hostage situation. 

“Clarus should be able to negotiate with them, once we’re close enough,” Ignis reassures him.

“I hope so…” Noctis doesn’t appear convinced.

Someone running through the woods—leaves cracking and twigs snapping beneath their shoes—distracts both of them from their conversation. They look up in time to see an old woman hobbling towards them as fast as her legs will take her. She doesn’t appear to be in the best of health.

Ignis steps forward to assist, but she bats him off until she notices the SWAT team around them.

“Not one of Mandar’s men, are you?” she asks, peering up at him with suspicion.

“No. I’m LBI.” Ignis pauses. “Are you by chance… Kimya Auburnbrie?”

“My name that is,” says Kimya stiffly. “Those men in my woods, they come here for the wrong reasons.”

“Did you escape?” asks Noctis.

Kimya rubs her wrists and smiles. “Those men would do well to learn how to tie knots better than I can undo them.” 

“Are there any other hostages?”

Kimya shakes her head. “Not hostages, only some chocobos.”

“I see…” Ignis exchanges glances with Clarus, who seems more than little relieved.

“This means we can send SWAT in to raid without worrying about risking her life,” says Clarus. He nods to Nyx. “Get her out of here. Call in a medic for her!”

Nyx obeys, assisting Kimya along the rough forest path. 

“That means the chocobos are in there,” says Noctis.

“Yes, and we ought to get in there and rescue them while we can,” says Clarus, pulling out his walkie talkie. “The hostage is in our custody. Negotiations are unnecessary. Close in on Mandar’s men!” 

Teams of men run in from all directions, guns aimed high against the men carrying cartons of illegal weapons and other smuggled goods. They’ll be busting Mandar for a lot more than chocobos, but Ignis hopes they can find the birds alive and well for Wiz’s sake. There isn’t a high chance that Mandar’s men will harm the creatures. Killing them won’t prevent an arrest, and the birds are worth too much to slaughter.

Ignis lets SWAT clear a path to the buildings. One of Mandar’s men lifts a gun from a case and aims it against them. He is shot in the arm, which forces him to drop his rifle, and no other bullets are discharged after that. The fewer weapons used, the safer the chocobos—especially since they don’t know where they are being kept.

“Where are the chocobos?” barks Clarus, looking at the men who are being put in handcuffs. 

A woman being arrested nods her head in the direction of one of the nicer cabins. Clarus holds up his weapon and eases his way over to the building, using different obstacles for protection in case Mandar and his remaining men decide to fire. Ignis follows, waving Noctis over. 

“Keep your distance, but don’t get too close,” says Ignis. 

“I’m not sure about this,” admits Noctis. “I don’t have a weapon.”

“Very well…” Ignis nods over at Aranea, who is talking to one of the men she has arrested. “Join her until we’re done.”

Noctis nods and obeys, and Ignis can’t blame him for not wanting to get too close. Noctis might have been a con man—might _still_ be one—but this isn’t the crime world he is familiar with. A little distance from this case is a good idea, but Ignis has a strange feeling that there’s more going on that Noctis isn’t sharing. Nonetheless, he sends him off and makes sure he is safely at Aranea’s side before he joins Clarus behind a brick wall near the cabin.

Clarus unfastens his megaphone. “You can come out first, or we’ll go in. It’s up to you. You’re completely surrounded and we have most of your people in cuffs.”

The answer is a series of bullets that crash through one of the front windows. Everyone within the area ducks, including Ignis, but the brick wall keeps him and Clarus within safety. The automatic weapon continues firing for a few seconds, and there is only a brief break before it starts up again for a few more rounds. Nearby windows shatter. Ignis hears the screams of distressed chocobos—a sound he wishes he never had to hear in his life. The noise continues, which at least reassures him they’re alive. For how long, he isn’t sure.

SWAT closes in, but Clarus sends out an order for no one to fire. They have to wait out the attack, and some minutes later, the thicket goes silent except for the sound of distressed chocobos.

Clarus peers over and aims his gun carefully at something near the front porch. It’s a chair, and with the angle, the bullet will go into the wooden leg. He fires, and as soon as his weapon discharges, he dives behind the brick again—just in time for another round of gunfire from inside the cabin.

“They were saving that for us,” says Clarus before lifting up his megaphone. 

Ignis covers his ears but can still hear what Clarus is saying clearly through his palms.

“Come on out. Spare the chocobos or you’ll only add to your sentence.” 

They wait. It seems like several minutes, but it is maybe only one that passes before the door eases open and several men step outside in surrender. SWAT closes in with weapons raised high. A few agents pass them to get into the cabin and check for more who might be armed, while others like Ravus begin making more arrests.

Ignis follows behind Clarus. Once the men in the cabin gives the clear that there are no others waiting to shoot, he tucks his gun back into its holster. A few people bring out the chocobos—the mother on a lead and three others holding a baby in each of their arms.

“They’re pretty freaked out,” says Clarus. “Where’re the veterinarians we asked for? Get them over here!”

Noctis runs over to Ignis, eyes wide.

“Are you all right, Iggy?” he asks, reaching out his arms but stopping himself—almost as if he was going to hug Ignis but thought better of it. 

“Ah, yes, I’m all right…” Ignis’ heart is pounding, but that is to be expected after being in a standoff. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I was at a safe distance, and I used Aranea as a shield.” Noctis shrugs it off, and behind him, Aranea rolls her eyes. 

“Next time, I’ll use _you_ as a shield,” she says playfully.

Noctis peers over Ignis’ shoulders. “All of them? All four?”

“Yes, as long as the veterinarians clear their health. I imagine Wiz will want to take a look at them as well. For now, I need to oversee that they’re properly brought back to Insomnia.”

“You can’t drop them off at Wiz’s?” asks Noctis.

“Unfortunately, they’re evidence right now. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to get them back to him before the day is over.”

“Good.” 

“Ignis!” Clarus calls for him, and Ignis nods briefly at Aranea before ducking away to see what his boss wants. “Can you make sure the chocobos are processed carefully? And get in contact with Wiz, too, once the vets have a look at them.” 

“Yes, of course.” It’s likely Mandar treated them well and therefore profitable, but the chocobos are clearly still distressed. The veterinarians load them into an animal control vehicle for transportation after they’ve been looked over. The babies are nestled into a large crate of hay, where they snuggle against one another. The mother seems happier, too, after a handful of gyshal greens.

With the chocobos loaded up, Ignis peers around to rejoin his team. He sees Aranea and Nyx and Gladiolus. Some of the others have still left, like Ravus and Clarus. 

But Noctis is nowhere in sight.

~*~

Ignis finds Noctis near a campsite along the river, almost to the very edge of his range. He’s not alone, either. Behind several tall rocks and some thick foliage, Noctis chats with a blond young man whose voice keeps rising octaves with each word that passes his lips.

“You could’ve given me that number! I was texting you, telling you I was still in the area. You’re lucky I got out of the thicket in time!” 

Ignis leans against a tree and listens. He has known for some time that Noctis carries at least one other phone on him and probably has countless others stashed away in his apartment to burn through later. Whether it is by habit or to carry out future crimes, Ignis isn’t sure. 

“Hey, at least you didn’t let yourself get kidnapped,” says Noctis.

“Yeah, not by Mandar’s men! But what about the LBI? I’m not in the system, Noct. I’d like to stay that way.”

“Can you talk quieter?”

“I gave up my camera for this. My camera!”

“Cor will buy you a new one.”

“Not until after he’s done chewing both of us out.”

Cor? For future reference, Ignis logs the name. What truly upsets him is that he now has confirmation Noctis has been lying to him. Even the camera wasn’t Kimya’s. It doesn’t matter if everything Noctis has said and done was for a case. Yes, the chocobos are safe, but the betrayal stings like a slap to the face. 

Ignis steps out from behind his tree and approaches them. The blond companion turns away, ready to run.

“Stop!”

The blond freezes. That didn’t take much effort. Ignis didn’t even have to pull out his weapon or badge. 

“Who are you?” asks Ignis. 

“He’s a friend…” says Noctis weakly.

“Does your friend have a name?”

The blond bows his head. “Prompto…”

“Oh, you’re Dino’s ex-lover.”

Prompto squeaks. “What?! How do you know about that?”

“Dino might’ve waxed poetic about his nights in Galdin with you while I was wearing a bug,” explains Noctis. “Don’t worry about it. He was too busy being disappointed you weren’t with me to say too much about the gross sexual details.” 

Ignis inhales sharply and narrows his eyes at Prompto. “Want to tell me what you’re doing, sticking your nose into LBI business?”

Prompto points to Noctis. “He asked for my help. Couldn’t you be a little more grateful? I could’ve _died_ today.” 

“You didn’t even come close,” snaps Noctis.

“But I could have!”

Ignis clears his throat, and both men turn their attention back to him. He allows himself to express some of the anger he feels.

“I want your friend to meet me back at your apartment tonight, Noctis,” says Ignis. “We have a lot to discuss about you involving a stranger in our operations. You could’ve jeopardized this entire case—you still can, if anyone finds out you lied to us.” Ignis glares at Prompto. “Get out of here, but don’t think I won’t hunt you down if you fail to show up later.”

Prompto audibly gulps and nods in agreement. Why is Ignis even showing him mercy? He ought to put Prompto and Noctis in handcuffs for what they have pulled. But ultimately, it isn’t a good idea to reveal a flaw in their information that Mandar’s lawyer can exploit. No amount of evidence against Mandar will matter if it wasn’t obtained legally.

Ignis waits for the friend to leave before he starts in on Noctis. 

“Kimya wasn’t captured, was she?” Ignis doesn’t recognize his own voice. 

“You heard what she said when she found us.”

“Yes, I know what she said, and she’s sticking to her story.”

“Then I guess Prompto was right about her being kidnapped. You have a witness now, and she’ll testify.”

Yes, Noctis thought of everything—including having a citizen with a legal name who can go to court to testify against Mandar to keep Prompto from being logged into the system.

“You still lied to me,” says Ignis. “You lied to me, and you involved two other people.”

“But we have the chocobos, and we have Mandar…”

“And Mandar could be let go if he finds out any of us knew he didn’t have a hostage!” 

There’s a pause, filled with the sounds of the rushing water of the river nearby.

“I’m sorry, Ignis. I wanted to help those chocobos, and so did Prom.”

Ignis rubs his eyes and readjusts his glasses. “This isn’t how we do it, Noctis. There are laws and protocols. We have to follow them.”

Noctis doesn’t say a word after that, but he follows behind Ignis as they tread their way out of the woods and back down the path to the main road. Today is not Ignis’ day for hiking—especially when he wore his work shoes. It only worsens his mood. 

Noctis is very good at giving him victories he cannot celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I agonized over the last three chapters, so I hope this case turned out all right. :( 
> 
> And...time for a bit of angst and tension. :(


	16. Chapter 16

“I don’t want to die,” whines Prompto, who paces in front of the door to Noctis’ loft apartment. After tripping on the rug several times, he bunches it up with his boot and tosses it against the back of the sofa. “He seemed mad, Noct. _Really_ mad. Like worse than Cor’s angriest. I feel like a kid waiting in the principal’s office for my parents to show up.”

“You’ve never been to school.”

“Never had parents, either, but I can guess how much trouble I’m in!”

“Could you stop pacing?” grumbles Noctis. He sits at his table and rolls a piece of paper into a tube and then unrolls it. “You’re making me anxious.”

Prompto pauses, thumbs hooked into his belt loops. He tilts his head. “You like him.”

“I—what?” Noctis lets out a short laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When he told me to scram, I didn’t wander far. I spied on your conversation. You didn’t roll your eyes at him, the way you always do with Cor. You bowed your head and looked…” Prompto makes a face. “Ashamed.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Noctis Caelum, infamous art thief, bothered by the Suit’s lecture? You shattered your kneecap just to avoid Weskham putting you on work duty in his restaurant to pay off all that booze you hocked.”

“Was that gonna be my punishment?” Noctis laughs. “Well, got me out of it, didn’t it? He even felt sorry enough for me that he let me keep the games. All I got was some extra reading assignments.” Not to mention a lot of pain and some months of physical therapy, but he didn’t jump out the window expecting to get injured. 

“See? Even now, you don’t feel sorry about it.” 

“I don’t feel—” Except he _does_ feel sorry about lying to Ignis. He can’t finish that sentence without lying to Prompto, too. “Whatever. I need to work with Ignis. You wouldn’t get it. This is all for my dad.” 

Even if that part is true, it’s a flimsy excuse, and both of them know it. Noctis didn’t enjoy deceiving Ignis, but it kept Prompto from doing something stupid and risking his life for the chocobos. And it _did_ work out in the end. Ignis has to acknowledge that, albeit grudgingly. Sometimes the law is ridiculous. It doesn’t help people like Regis, but it always lets people like Mandar get away on technicalities. All they have to do is make sure that it looks like Mandar denies kidnapping Kimya to avoid being charged for it on top of everything else. They have the camera and they’ll have Kimya’s testimony. 

It’s solid enough that Ignis will be angry over the method but forgive Noctis because of the result.

Prompto retrieves a soda from the fridge and settles into a chair. 

“How much do you like him?”

“I’m not talking to you about this.”

“Have you seen how you flirt?”

“Have you seen how _you_ flirt? Most people run away from you.”

“Yeah? Well, some people think it’s cute.” Prompto pouts. 

“And that’s how you ended up dating a sleaze like Dino.” Noctis decides to pick at the freshest scab on Prompto’s heart. It’s a low blow, but Noctis doesn’t like being cornered into talking about people he is interested in romantically. 

It takes Prompto a few minutes of licking his wounds before he finds an appropriate counterattack, and when he does, it’s a doozy. 

“I bet you’re fantasizing about going over his knees right now.”

Noctis feels that familiar tug of arousal from his lower abdomen to his cock. He balls his hands into fists. What bothers him most is that Prompto isn’t one hundred percent _wrong_. The only part he didn’t get correct is the “right now” bit. Noctis has most definitely entertained the thought. He can’t help it if Ignis has nice legs. And hands. Along with just about every other stunning asset that makes Ignis almost inhuman in his beauty. Even his imperfections—the acne scars, the overbite—don’t distract but rather help define the things Noctis finds attractive in him. Those flaws make him seem…normal. _Obtainable._

“I regret ever getting drunk enough to tell you my kinks.”

“Nothing wrong with getting kinky—with the right person. Not sure it’s a good idea to make yourself a sub to someone whose job it is to put guys like us in handcuffs.”

For the first time since leaving prison, Noctis considers whether or not it is worth going back just to strangle Prompto. “Why are we friends?”

Prompto grins. “’Cos I’m Cor’s favorite, and if you bully me, he’ll make your life miserable.”

“You are not Cor’s favorite. He likes us both equally.” Noctis hears his confidence falter in that statement. “And if we picked on one another, he made us _both_ do laps. Remember that time we beat up on each other ‘cos you thought I borrowed your Moogle Crossing game and deleted your town? And you stole my copy and tried to delete my save as revenge?”

Prompto lets out a low whine and grabs his ribcage. “I can still feel the stitch in my side! Who knew Weskham was interested in Moogle Crossing?” 

There’s a knock at the door, and Noctis straightens up in his chair. 

“That’s him!” Prompto lifts up his soda and downs the rest in one long gulp. “I hope if he spanks you, he doesn’t spank me,” whispers Prompto as Noctis passes by him to answer the door. 

Noctis pauses long enough to glower at him.

Ignis is indeed waiting for them on the other side of the door, and thanks to Prompto’s reminder, Noctis can’t help but see the potential for a dominant partner in him. He wears casual clothing—though Ignis in his most casual is still classy—with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

The fury in his face is ill-disguised. Noctis wants to beg him to punish him right then and there, and it isn’t _fair_ that Prompto nudged his mind in that direction.

Ignis doesn’t wait for the invitation inside. He steps inside with authority, which only arouses Noctis more.

“I’d like to make it clear that nothing like this is to ever happen again,” begins Ignis, one hand on his hip.

With the other hand, Ignis points to Noctis and then to a chair, and Noctis immediately sits down in it. Across the table, Prompto turns to give him a knowing look before bringing his attention back to Ignis.

“The two of you were reckless! Noctis is only a CI, not an agent, and you—you’re not even part of the LBI!”

“We just wanted to help the chocobos,” says Prompto.

“Yes, and I am grateful that this didn’t go badly and we were able to retrieve them alive, but you had no business being involved. Ravus would like the name of our anonymous informant, but the satisfaction of bringing down the leader of one of the biggest criminal rings in Eos has pacified his interests. I don’t think he’ll be pursuing a name, since we have Kimya’s testimony and a camera with only her prints.”

“I’m glad she’s safe from Mandar,” says Prompto, and he earns a sharp glare from Ignis for it.

“What is your name?”

“Prompto.”

“Yes, I know that much from earlier. What about your last name? Your _real_ name?”

“Some of us don’t have full names.”

Ignis sighs and rubs his temple. “Fine. I shouldn’t expect more, should I? Not from your lot.”

Those words sting enough to make Noctis visibly flinch. It doesn’t go without notice from the LBI agent, but the damage can’t be taken back—perhaps Ignis doesn’t have any interest in apologizing. It isn’t as if he is wrong. Noctis’ “lot” has been cast with the rest of the art thieves and con men of the world. They can only be normal in appearance for short glimpses, but deep down, their history remains unchanged. None of them will ever be able to go back to living as ordinary citizens. That is the price they have paid for placing their loyalties with the fallen royal family and its lineage. 

“Noct really was worried about those chocobos,” says Prompto. “And he didn’t want Mandar to get away with everything and do it again. Don’t think he didn’t do some of that for you, too, Suit.” 

Noctis casts his friend an appreciative glance.

“‘Suit’?” asks Ignis, frowning.

Prompto lifts his eyebrows and scans over Ignis’ clothing before giving him a pointed look.

“I’m not even wearing a suit right now. I only do so for my job.”

Prompto makes finger guns and a clicking noise at Ignis. “Exactly.”

“Ignore him,” pleads Noctis. “Did the chocobos get back to Wiz?”

“He’s on his way to pick them up,” says Ignis. There’s a long pause before he says, almost resigned, “Would you both like to be present during the reunion?”

Prompto leaps from his seat, fist pumping the air. “Yes!”

Noctis offers Ignis a little smile. A happy ending? He doesn’t witness enough of those. Maybe seeing one of those will remind him that it’s possible for him, too. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Wait, how’re we getting there?” asks Prompto, arms dropping to his side.

“I’m driving you.” Ignis pulls his car keys out of his pocket and holds them up.

“To the _bureau?_ ”

“Where else did you think it would be?” 

Noctis rolls his eyes, tucking his arm around Prompto’s. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. It’s not like he’s going to arrest you.”

Ignis reaches out and stops them before they pass him on the way to the door. His hand falls across Prompto’s chest. “You look familiar,” says Ignis, squinting at Prompto’s face. 

Noctis’ heart drops to his stomach. Where would Ignis have recognized Prompto? Another crime? Although Prompto might be reckless when it comes to chocobos, his paranoia often keeps him well-hidden within their secret world. But Prompto is also involved in a lot more crimes and has more connections—and enemies—that could put him at risk of exposure. Most of the time, he doesn’t even use the name Cor gave him with anyone outside their makeshift family. Which is why his use of “Prompto” with Ignis comes as a bit of a surprise.

“Oh, I remember now,” says Ignis. “The security footage of prison visitors. You’re the woman who visited Noctis.”

Prompto’s face turns a color of red that makes Noctis wish he had his phone out to snap a picture. Ignis reaches out and pats Prompto on the shoulder in mock consolation.

“All right, it’s time to see those chocobos reunited with their proper caretaker!” says Ignis cheerfully.

Noctis and Prompto watch him trot ahead of them out the door. How does Ignis always know so much? And did he not trust Noctis enough that he checked out footage of all his visitors in prison?

“Guess you were right to wear a disguise,” says Noctis. “Too bad it didn’t work.”

Prompto lets out a strange sound before allowing Noctis to steer him out the door. He’ll recover from the humiliation of falling short in his disguise soon enough, once he gets to see the chocobos. That’s the great thing about chocobos—they make everything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are a bit wild irl right now, so updates _might_ pause for a couple of weeks, maybe more. I've had this chapter finished (and the next one) for a week or so now, and I have 18 and 19 that are partially written, so I might as well share this one. I'll save the next one for closer to the end if my little hiatus, haha.
> 
> Annnnd now the 'spanking' tag probably becomes clear. :'D 
> 
> Fun fact: until I wrote this chapter and got to the end, I had no idea Ignis was going to figure out Prompto was Noct's prison visitor! Haha.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to update this a bit sooner. I've been working on bits and pieces of this, but the next case (which shows up in the chapter after next) has been a bit of a pain to write. I should probably buckle down and figure that out soon. Until then, enjoy some Ravus and Clarus? :'D

Ignis’ home is a little more crowded for the next day while Ravus spends an extra day in Insomnia with his sister. Ravus’ flight is the following morning—sometime within the early hours, so he’ll be gone by the time Luna wakes up for work—so he insists on taking everyone out to dinner. Ignis has the evening free, which makes it much easier for Ravus to talk him into accompanying them.

“This is a celebration on our successful case,” says Ravus. “Surely you’re proud of capturing Mandar?”

“Shouldn’t we invite Noctis, too?” asks Ignis.

Ravus frowns. “Why?”

“He did help.”

“All of your agents did, but I don’t feel like inviting the LBI’s white collar division out to a restaurant.” Leave it to Ravus to make a reasonable excuse for why he doesn’t want Noctis around.

“Noctis is Ignis’ partner,” says Luna, smiling at her brother and placing one gentle hand on his arm. Despite the tenderness of the gesture, it most often happens when she is about to deliver a scathing truth—which she does this time as well. “Ignis has already declined your offers for a date several times. When will you learn?”

Ravus stiffens, chin high. “This isn’t a date,” he says. “This is a celebration for taking down one of the biggest criminal organizations in Eos. Besides, I’m inviting you. Can’t I take my sister to dinner?”

“She worked on the case less than Noctis,” points out Ignis.

Luna narrows her eyes at Ignis. “I was moral support. Who made sure you two ate while you worked those long, hard nights at the office?”

“Thank you for that,” says Ignis, pecking Luna on the cheek. Ravus echoes his words and leans in to kiss her on the opposite cheek. 

Luna beams and breaks away from them to grab her coat. “Do I get to pick the place?” she asks cheerfully.

“I’ve already made a reservation,” says Ravus. “I made it last night, while Ignis was seeing the chocobos placed back in Wiz’s care.” 

“Does that mean we’re having Altissian cuisine?” asks Ignis, knowing the answer. Since finding out Ignis loves Altissian seafood, Ravus seldom picks anything else.

“I settled for Galahdian this time,” says Ravus. “We’re going to an expensive steakhouse.” 

“Very well, sounds delightful.” It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t a full truth. While Ignis very much enjoys Ravus’ company and finds that they work well together on cases, he has never been able to reciprocate Ravus’ feelings. That doesn’t stop Ravus from trying to impress him from time to time.

Ravus wouldn’t be too pleased if he found out Noctis is the person who has been taking up Ignis’ thoughts lately. He cannot see Noctis as anything but another criminal. His mistrust has been evident during every step of the Mandar case. It is that attitude—that stubbornness to accept that people can change—that might be what keeps Ignis at a distance. Or perhaps it’s simply a lack of attraction. Ravus is certainly a handsome, intelligent man, whose love for his family has always given way to a softer side. All of that has never been enough to make something flutter in Ignis’ chest.

Ignis might have thought that such a thing didn’t exist, but then he met Noctis. Now he can recognize that excitement and giddiness he feels when he knows he’ll be working with Noctis that day. 

And Luna… Well, from the look she gives Ignis as they step out the door for dinner, she knows. She always bloody knows.

~*~

Ignis and Noctis focus on a few smaller cases, which gives Ignis time to coordinate with Aranea on finding more out about the people surrounding his CI. A quick search for anyone named “Prompto” merits nothing in the database, but Ignis had a feeling it wouldn’t. Something about the blond tells Ignis he is not only out of system, but he has no known paper trail of any sort. The kind of person who mistrusts using an alias or phone for too long before he tosses them. 

Cid not only has a clean record no matter how deep Ignis and Aranea dig, but he might as well be called an upstanding citizen. For all his cantankerous ways, he not only adopted his granddaughter after the demise of her parents, but he took in a young boy named Takka from the streets and fostered him. Cindy is any ordinary citizen. Her only dealings with the police have been as a witness to a car theft and a couple of charges of assault brought against her after a pair of men tried to rob the shop and she knocked them across the teeth with a crowbar. The courts ruled that she acted in self-defense.

Ignis digs into Takka, who owns a diner in the suburbs. Other than a robbery a couple of years ago—which was easily stopped by a pair of police officers having breakfast at Takka’s establishment—he is also spotless. He does have sealed juvenile records, however, which alludes to a troubled past. 

Perhaps Cid is the kind of man who turns people around. Is that why Noctis chose to stay with him? To turn his life around? Or is that how Noctis hopes Ignis will read the situation?

A few days after the Mandar case concludes, Clarus summons Ignis into his office. Only Ignis is requested—when Noctis tries to follow, he is shooed away.

“You’ve been looking into Caelum,” says Clarus. Not a question at all.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to find out more about him and the people he lives with.” 

“I think you should give it a rest, Ignis. Don’t dig too deep—you will _never_ like what you find out, and it doesn’t matter who you’re looking into, either. Everyone has some kind of history they don’t want other people to know about. And if Caelum finds out that you’re looking into him, it will only hurt your working relationship.” 

Ignis thinks over this, formulating an argument to counter with, but the more he gives Clarus’ thoughts consideration, the more he recognizes that he’s right. 

“If he does something suspicious, you worry about that,” Clarus continues in a stern voice. “Don’t seek trouble.” 

“I’m not—” 

“You’ll find trouble. You’ll find out more than you wanted to know.” Clarus pauses to take a sip of his tea. “I’m giving you advice, because this is your first CI. I get that you want to be thorough. But having a CI means you willingly put faith in them to change their ways. It might not always work out, but we’re all about risk taking. While the LBI can be like family, our every mistake and even our victories are always under heavy scrutiny. Despite that, we are like family here, and we have to trust one another. That includes putting some level of trust in our informants and treating them as part of the team.”

The words resonate with a painful truth. Ignis has always been a man who lives by the book, whose thoroughness is a source of security in his job and in his life. Challenges are an opportunity for growth, but he always does his best to prepare for them. Secretly, Ignis enjoys overcoming the difficulties of his work and the rush of chasing criminals—as long as he does so within the law. Noctis is unconventional and risky. Ignis secretly hasn’t minded as much as he lets on. It makes getting up every day for his job less cumbersome than he thought it would become after doing it for so many years.

“You’re right,” says Ignis, sinking into a chair. “I’ve been mistrustful.” 

“If you’re not ready for a CI, we can assign him to someone else.”

“No!” Ignis says it a little too quickly, and he casts his gaze to the side, unwilling to see what expression Clarus might be wearing. “I enjoy working with him, and I requested that he become my CI. He’s my responsibility.”

Clarus sighs. “If you say so. But if you feel you can’t handle it, don’t be ashamed to ask me to reassign him to someone else. You still gave him an opportunity to do honest work instead of staying in prison.”

Ignis doesn’t want to admit to Clarus the real reason why he doesn’t want to hand Noctis over to another handler. It isn’t just about how much he has already invested in Noctis’ recovery, but he decides that since that is part of it, he’ll stick to that angle. Maybe even he will believe that’s the only reason if he repeats it enough.

“I’ll be all right,” says Ignis in a tone that he hopes translates that the conversation is final. “I appreciate the advice you’ve given me. I’ll give Noctis more benefit of the doubt than I have been.”

Clarus grins. “Good. I know you can do it.” 

Ignis only hopes he can prove to Clarus he’s capable—and prove it to himself, as well. He doesn’t want anyone to forcibly interfere with the working relationship he has with Noctis.

Clarus waves him away. “All right, back to work. I’m glad we had this talk. If you have any questions, you can come to me any time.”

“I know. Thank you, Clarus.” Ignis gives him a small smile before ducking out. He steps out of the office and is greeted with Noctis standing at the bottom of the stairs, unconvincingly shuffling through a file. 

“Everything okay?” asks Noctis.

“Yes, for now.” 

Noctis smiles. “Ah, good. I thought you might be in trouble.”

“Oh, no. Clarus was giving me some advice.”

“I guess even the best agents need tips from time to time.”

_Flattery will get you nowhere_ , Ignis wants to say, but he knows it is getting Noctis everywhere. “We help each other out here as a team.”

“Right.” Noctis hands Ignis the file. “Let’s close this case. I already figured it out while you were gone.” 

Noctis leads the way to Ignis’ desk, and Ignis has a feeling this could work well for them. Both of them have the same goals when wrapping up cases. For now, Ignis will give Noctis a little more trust. It isn’t as if he hasn’t earned it. Even when breaking some of the rules, Noctis still does it to help solve cases and keep Ignis’ record clean.

Maybe it will do Ignis some good to let up a little more and meet his CI halfway. It’s time to put that a bit more into practice.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so long since I last updated this story... I've got a lot of unposted writing that I'm too anxious to share, especially because I like to have a "buffer" of a few chapters, in case I realize I need to change any inconsistencies. But here's another one chapter before the next arc/case happens!

Noctis hears the voice of a guest as he makes his way down the stairs of Cid’s mansion. He pokes his head over the edge of the banister. In the living room, Cid and Cindy are greeting Takka with hugs and pats on the back. 

“It’s been a while!” says Cid fondly. “What brings you here?” Once Cid sees Noctis, he grins. “Get your ass down here and say somethin’!” 

Noctis hurries and shakes hands with Takka before drawing him into a hug. He knows Cid’s protégé, whose life started on the streets and ended with the mechanic opening his home to the lost teenager. After developing a passion for cooking and earning a scholarship to study at a culinary school, Takka opened a restaurant. He doesn’t pick up knives to threaten people anymore and hasn’t for over a couple of decades.

Noctis and Prompto used to gobble up Takka’s food whenever they had the chance, but when Takka opened a restaurant and started living a clean life, Cid asked him to keep a distance. Years later, Noctis found out Takka had been arrested several times in his youth. While his records are now sealed, Cid has wanted the boy he raised like a son to make the best of his second chance at life. That means staying well away from the criminal activities the rest of the family participates in. 

Takka spends every holiday dinner at the house and photos of him have been given space on the mansion walls, but Noctis hasn’t seen him in a long time.

“Hey, Noct, still hate beans?” asks Takka, clapping him on the back.

“They’re not like little meatballs, and I’m still mad you lied to me about that black bean burger.”

“Hey, I had to try!” Takka laughs, and it echoes in the large living room. “Cid says you’ve moved in. Guess I caught you on your way to work?” 

He gestures at Noctis’ suit, which is a pinstriped outfit that once belonged to a younger Regis. Noctis has been wearing more and more of his father’s older clothes since he has no formal wear of his own. Cid, being forever sentimental, kept everything—even stuff Cor and Weskham likely advised him to throw out. It helps Noctis, who got an earful from Clarus about wearing casual outfits to the office. 

Noctis rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I have to go soon.” 

“Thought so.” Takka nods in approval. “You look good, even if those ain’t your usual clothes. Cid says you work for the LBI now?”

“As a criminal informant, yeah.”

Takka shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement by masking his grin with his palm. “Guess I’ll see you tonight?”

“Only if you don’t make beans,” says Noctis.

“No beans,” Takka promises.

“Then I’ll be around for dinner tonight.”

~*~

There has been a bit of a lull at the office, and Noctis spends most of the time helping Ignis solve smaller cases—though it is emphasized that they are no less important. The only reason they have been put on hold is because some criminals are more dangerous or likely to skip out of the country. So far, these cases seem to be far easier to resolve, too. 

Ignis lets Noctis go home early once they can see a desk again under all those files. 

“This works out for me,” says Noctis, pulling on his jacket. “Are you leaving, too?”

“Soon,” says Ignis, signing off on some paperwork and not looking up.

“Well, if you want, you could come have dinner at my place. Well, Cid’s place.”

That makes Ignis pause and glance up. “I don’t think that wise, Noct.” 

Noctis feels a little flutter in his belly. That’s the first time that Ignis has shortened his name. He went from ‘Caelum’—the criminal Ignis hunted down—to ‘Noctis’. That was already a big step for both of them. Now he’s ‘Noct’? He likes the sound of that. 

“Cid’s foster son is visiting. He lives in the suburbs and doesn’t come in often, but he’s fixing dinner. He’s a pretty good cook for the most part.” When he’s not slipping in _beans_. 

“You know Cid doesn’t like me.” Ignis flips closed a file and taps his fingers on the surface for a beat. “Not only that, but you’ve been hesitant to open up to me until now, and something might come out at dinner. When I ask about your father, you take every opportunity to change the subject.”

Noctis grimaces. Ignis wouldn’t be an agent if he couldn’t do a little detective work, but Noctis hasn’t exactly been hiding his aversion to conversations about Regis. 

“That’s not anything against you,” whispers Noctis.

That earns Noctis a soft, brief smile from Ignis. “I know. There’s only so much you can share with anyone, and even though we are work partners, I’m still an agent.”

A lump gathers in the back of Noctis’ throat, but he ignores it and forces out the words. “If something slips out at dinner, isn’t that a good reason to come?”

He’s only half-joking. This is the same dance with danger he took when infiltrating the Citadel to steal the ring. What is life, if you can’t take a few risks? If you can’t dare to trust someone and see what happens? 

“That still doesn’t change how much Cid hates me.” 

“Not you. Just…” Noctis gestures at the office around them. “I’ll tell you more about it, on the way to Cid’s.”

In the pause that follows, Noctis knows he has succeeded. Ignis finally shrugs, and Noctis cheers.

“Give me a few more minutes and we’ll leave,” says Ignis.

Noctis grins, which is a watered-down version of how elated he feels inside. He takes a seat at his desk and tosses up a rubber band ball into the air while he waits. It doesn’t take long. Ignis might be thorough, but that doesn’t mean it slows him down. It’s no wonder Ignis has built such a reputation among his fellow agents. He finishes a rather high percentile of cases and takes care of a lot of the paperwork on his own—he’s not the type to make a mess of things and leave it for someone else to clean up.

“What is for dinner?” asks Ignis as they make their way through the parking garage to Ignis’ car.

“Not beans. Couldn’t tell you what Takka will fix, but I promise he’s a great cook.” Noctis stops and waits for Ignis to unlock his vehicle before sliding into the passenger seat. It should be safe to talk in Ignis’ car. “Cid doesn’t hate you. He knows you could’ve arrested Prompto, but you didn’t.”

Ignis doesn’t answer at first. Is he angry? It’s fair, if he is. 

“What I did was unethical.”

“Is it unethical, if the law won’t help you put away criminals?” Noctis feels the bitterness creep up his throat like bile. “Is the law always just in everything it does?” 

‘Is that why Cid hates ‘the feds’ more than you do?”

“I… I don’t hate the feds. I don’t hate you, even though you locked me up—I’m aware what I did was wrong. But I’m not a criminal like Mandar. I’m not…” _Evil._

Ignis slows the car and places a calm hand over Noctis’ without taking his eyes from the road. The gentle reassurance is all Noctis needs. Even Ignis doesn’t see him as the enemy.

“I hate when people like Mandar get away with their crimes,” says Ignis. “And I hate it more when I see people who deserve second chances denied them. That’s why you’re my CI and not still in prison, Noct. That’s why you’re here.”

Noctis takes a daring step and flips his hand palm-up and cups his fingers around Ignis’. He only does so for a second—a gentle squeeze before he releases and allows Ignis to return all his attention to the steering wheel. 

“Thanks, Ignis.”

A show of friendly gratitude is all Noctis dares. His heart is racing in a way that no con has ever made him feel. 

“I suppose your friends feel similarly about law enforcement,” says Ignis. “And no doubt they’ve all experienced the failings of the judicial system as well.”

It is much deeper than that, even if Noctis doesn’t know the details. But there are many cases to choose from, so he decides to share a tidbit with Ignis—something he suspects the agent probably knows after digging into Cid and Cindy’s backgrounds. 

“Cid won’t tell me that much about it,” says Noctis honestly. “All I know is what I got from Cindy, and it’s a bit of a cliché story. Her parents died in a car accident when she was little. The drunk driver who hit their car fled from the scene. Despite the evidence, he had money and decent lawyers, and he practically got away with it—other than a little community service and temporary suspension of his license, as long as he promised to attend meetings for alcoholics. He bailed on those after the first and never got in trouble for it.”

Ignis pulls up against the curb across the street from Cid’s home. Before unbuckling, he turns to Noctis. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“You are, but how many people aren’t? And don’t mention you know anything to Cid. Not that you would—you haven’t said anything so far, and you knew, didn’t you?”

Ignis gives him a short nod. “Yes, I knew a little bit about it. Newspaper articles are public record, and a little digging at the library told me all I needed to know. You’re right that I won’t say anything. But Noctis, that only explains why Cid distrusts the judicial system. It doesn’t explain his disgust when he calls me a ‘fed’.” 

Noctis unbuckles his seat belt. “Yeah, I don’t know that story. Trust me, I’ve tried to pry it out of him. It…” Noctis falters.

“Is it related to your father?” asks Ignis softly.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ah, I suppose I shouldn’t push too many questions on you. It’s been difficult for you to open up to me, and from now on, I’ll try not to corner you for more answers.”

This is a nice turn-around. Noctis is embarrassed by the show of kindness, and he shrugs it off with a joke. 

“Guess you’re not gonna bribe me with hot chocolate?”

“Oh, you can have that for free.”

Noctis swings open the door and grins at Ignis before he steps out onto the curb. “You’ll treat me whenever I want?”

Ignis rolls his eyes, but Noctis has a feeling he would never be turned down if he knocked on Ignis’ door. That’s a comfort, but it isn’t one he’s familiar with, and that makes him feel even more awkward and embarrassed. Time to herd Ignis in the door and have Cid bicker—that’ll be the distraction they all need.

~*~

Takka’s food and presence is a salve on whatever hostilities might be left between Cid and Ignis. The dinner arrives piping hot and spicy, and Noctis rolls the vegetables out of his meal to the side of his plate but devours the rest. There are a few beans in one dish, but Noctis passes it over to Ignis without scooping any onto his plate.

It doesn’t go without notice from Takka, who teases him about still being a bit of a child. They have a big age gap—Takka had already gone off to culinary school by the time Regis disappeared. Noctis and Prompto were passed between Cor and Weskham, mainly, but for the few visits they had at Cid’s house, Takka always made sure to feed them. He has always been a big hit with Prompto, who is also at the dinner table. The spicy food summons him every time.

“This is great, Takka,” says Prompto between bites. “It’s even better than last time.”

“Get your fill,” encourages Takka, and he drops a tray of cheesy biscuits down between Noctis and Prompto.

Ignis eats a bite of everything and goes for a second helping afterward. He sits to Noctis’ right, directly across from Cid. Despite the close vicinity, Cid doesn’t toss Ignis any dirty looks. He drinks down lemonade and asks Takka all sorts of ordinary questions. The kind any father might ask his son.

It’s no secret Cid has always embraced the idea of a normal family. Noctis got that impression early on as a child, when he would run around the house with Prompto. They could have been scolded for messing around indoors, but while Cor would sometimes remind them to settle down, Cid would shrug it off and say, “as long as they don’t break anything that matters.”

What mattered, of course, were the framed photos everywhere. It turned out that wasn’t the only thing Cid was concerned about, though. As small children, Noctis, Prompto, and Cindy once encountered red ants in the yard and were bitten multiple times, and there was no one gentler than Cid who could apply medicine to their wounds and wipe the tears from their eyes. Little kids have always been his weakness. 

He’s been a bit crankier since Noctis’ teens, but Cid gets more cantankerous with age and has less patience for older people’s shenanigans. Now he always sounds pissed off when he talks to Noctis.

Tonight’s a change, because Cid has been smiling through most of their dinner. 

“Y’all ready for dessert?” asks Takka.

Despite the fact that nearly everyone must be full to bursting, cheers erupt. Noctis is the first to nod his head. There is always room for dessert. If the rest of the meal hadn’t been spectacular, Noctis might have skipped half of it to save room for even more sweets.

“Good food, ain’t it?” asks Cid, directing the question and his gaze to Ignis.

“Absolutely delicious,” agrees Ignis. “I look forward to dessert.”

Cid grins. “I promise you’ll love it.” 

Dessert turns out to be a caramel apple cake, drizzled with caramel and dark chocolate. It is the perfect weather for such a treat, too. Takka’s food has the effect of bringing everyone together—even Cid and Ignis, it turns out. 

Long after Ignis leaves, Cid doesn’t even yell at Noctis for inviting him over.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how many times I can add this disclaimer: writing crime is **not** my strength, and this has been...kind of a trial? I've been stuck on this case for month. Wrote two chapters, got stuck, and then finally wrote two chapters the past few days to finish it. I prefer writing out a whole case before I post, in case I want to change anything. A lot of what you do read is 'learned' from White Collar, and trust me, I know that's written in a way that's entertaining and not particularly accurate to real life. So this? This...is entertainment, too. ;)

Their next case comes in during the early hours of the morning, when Ignis has barely had his first Ebony of the day and Noctis is still half-asleep at his desk. Clarus steps out of his office and addresses the entire division.

“We have an urgent case.” Clarus frowns. “A kidnapper is holding Jared Hester’s grandson for ransom, and they want Hester’s antique sword collection in exchange for the boy. This a delicate situation. Hester’s ready to give up anything for Talcott. We got the call from Hester fifteen minutes ago, but Talcott was taken during the night.” 

Ignis feels his stomach drop to his abdomen. He is familiar with the Hester family fortune, and this is not the only case involving Jared they have ever had to solve. But the other times didn’t involve any children. They were merely cases involving the art in Hester’s possession.

“They took a kid?” Noctis whispers to Ignis, his eyes no longer drooping. 

Ignis nods. “He’s young. Eight, I think.”

Anger flashes across Noctis’ face for a second, but before he can reply, Clarus begins handing out tasks for each team. 

“Ignis, your team will visit Hester’s home and work closely with him to discover the identity of the kidnapper. Look into anyone who might’ve been interested in the collection previously.”

“Yes, sir,” says Ignis. He doesn’t like this assignment. A little boy’s life is on the line. He makes eye contact with every member of his team, and one by one, they hurry to gather their jackets, phones, and coffee mugs. 

“How can they do that?” asks Noctis as they step onto the elevator. “He’s just a kid. What kind of person steals a kid for art?” 

“A shitty one,” says Gladiolus, slamming a thumb against the main floor button.

“Indeed,” agrees Ignis.

“This ain’t the only time we’ve dealt with the Hester family. He’s got quite a collection, so he’s been a target before. But no one has ever taken the kid before.” 

“Fucker,” mutters Noctis.

“Might be more than one,” says Ignis.

_“Fuckers.”_

Noctis and Gladiolus have tapped into an anger Ignis feels but doesn’t express. He can sense the same aura from Aranea and Nyx, despite their silence. 

“Nyx, Aranea—I want you to gather all necessary equipment and meet us at Hester’s once you have it. We’ll need it when the kidnappers contact Hester.” 

“We’ll meet you there,” promises Aranea.

There is no more talking on the elevator ride, nor are any words exchanged as the remaining three team members cut through the parking garage to Ignis’ car. Gladiolus sits in the front seat while Noctis takes the back and Ignis drives. Everyone hastily buckles in before Ignis lays it a little hard on the gas. Time is something they simply don’t have enough of when it comes to kidnappings. 

“Are you familiar with the Hester family?” asks Ignis, glancing in the rearview mirror at Noctis.

“Yeah, their family started off making weapons. Their skills impressed the queen of Lucis, and they were hired to make arms for the military. That was their legacy for centuries, and they expanded into other business ventures when guns started to replace swords. They’ve continued to be a successful family. The Hester company makes canes and other equipment for the disabled. They also own several vineyards, and Hester wines are famous for their authentic flavor. Been that way since the war seventy years ago, when the throne was lost and their biggest client with it. No need to make royal arms when there are no more royals.” There’s a sour tone in Noctis’ voice by the end. No doubt he’s recollecting the fall of his family again.

“Which swords do they want?” asks Gladiolus. “My dad said they’re after antiques.”

“We’ll find out when we get there,” says Ignis, knowing it won’t be too long with how much he is speeding. Being an LBI agent shouldn’t give him the right to break any laws, but in the case of a kidnapping, he is willing to overlook his own code of honor. 

Jared Hester lives in a high-rise apartment building not far from the bureau. They make it within ten minutes even in the throngs of early morning traffic. Aranea and Nyx still manage to arrive in the parking garage before the others have finished unloading their gear from Ignis’ car. 

Jared is expecting them, along with a couple of marshals—Monica and Dustin, two people Ignis has worked with before in previous cases. They nod grimly at one another before Ignis sits down in the chair across from Jared.

The old man seems broken over the ornate cane he rests in front of him, his back hunched and eyes downcast. Six years ago, Jared’s daughter-in-law died of illness. Three years following her death, Jared’s only son died on a plane crash when flying to Accordo on business. Jared took custody of his grandson, Talcott—an excited, cheerful boy who wanted nothing more than to help Ignis bust the bad guys who stole from his grandfather two years ago. Now that grinning child is missing. The thought makes Ignis’ stomach churn.

“How long?” Ignis asks Monica.

She sets a tender hand on Jared’s shoulder. “He went missing six hours ago.”

“Did cameras capture anything?” asks Ignis, unable to hide his frustration. The building doesn’t allow people to come in and out without passcodes, and surveillance should be running in the hallways, parking garage, and lobby. 

“A man wearing a mask,” says Monica. “Dustin?”

Dustin sets a laptop on the coffee table for Noctis and Ignis to view the video. It shows a man carrying Talcott in his arms, one arm beneath his back and the other beneath his knees. Anger boils within Ignis.

Next to him, Noctis inhales a sharp breath, the knuckles on his fists white. 

“Thank you, Dustin.” Ignis turns away.

“This note was left at the scene,” says Dustin, exchanging the laptop for a piece of paper in a plastic evidence bag. The document was typed up. “No fingerprints.”

Damnit. They’re dealing with an organized professional who planned this well in advance. Every sword the kidnapper wants in exchange is listed by its name. There is even a designated location given for where they want the swords dropped off. Once they’re collected safely, Talcott will be released. Gathering from the address, it looks to be near a cluster of warehouses. 

“I think I know who is responsible,” says Jared, his voice hard. “We’ve dealt with him before, Ignis.”

Only one name stands out in Ignis’ mind at this announcement—someone cruel and calculated enough to threaten a child. Someone Ignis has been keeping tabs on for as long as possible, though the man in question disappeared from his radar several months ago. 

“Ulldor is a likely candidate.” Ignis turns to Aranea, whose hands are full with equipment. “Aranea? I think this might be less about swords and more about our team—particularly you and me.” 

Aranea finishes hooking up a wire into a device that connects a computer to the phone lines and looks up at him. “Do you think the drop-off location might be a trap?”

“Ulldor did say he would love to see the two of us dead and promised revenge. Nevertheless, he’s still taken a child, and our priority is to see Talcott safe. We should proceed with caution.”

“Wait, who’s Ulldor?” asks Noctis, glancing between all the people who might have an answer for him until his eyes finally rest on Ignis.

“Caligo Ulldor,” says Nyx. “He fled to Lucis from Niflheim after getting caught in some shady business practices. Loqi Tummelt reached out for Aranea’s help on the case, and Ignis got involved. Igns and Aranea caught him over here while Ulldor was working for Jared under a false identity. They suspected he might have been scouting out Jared’s collection, but they had no way of proving it. They chose to extradite him.”

“He was meant to serve a year in prison, but he got out on good behavior in six months,” says Ignis. “I kept an eye on him for a while, but he disappeared several months ago. The last I knew, he was still in Niflheim, doing honest work. Or at least pretending.” Ignis turns back to Jared. “Are you sure it’s someone we know? You know as well as I that we cannot continue on a hunch.”

“I’m confident it’s him,” says Jared, his fingers gripping the end of his cane tight enough Ignis half expects the pressure to snap the wood in half. “Few people know the names of all the antique swords listed on that note, and of those people, he’s one of only two who doesn’t know where I moved them. One of them is a childhood friend who went into retirement shortly before the incident, and I don’t think she’s capable of this—not only is her personality quite different from Ulldor’s, she’s suffering from dementia and memory loss. I moved it shortly after you came to me about Ulldor and I helped you arrest him. I can’t imagine anyone else would have the knowledge to carry this out.” 

“And you’re sure she wouldn’t name them to anyone else in her state?” asks Ignis, though he believes Jared is right about Ulldor. “We can’t rule out that possibility.” 

“I’ll give you all her information, and you can see what you might be able to find out about her visitors and the staff, but on my last visit, she thought I was my grandfather and kept asking if I had candy. He used to give us sweets growing up.” Jared reaches into his pocket and produces a few wrapped candies. “I keep them on hand now. Always makes her happy, and Talcott—well, he loves them, too.” At the mention of his grandchild, he closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

Monica lifts her gaze to Ignis. “Please find him.”

“I don’t want to make a deal with Ulldor, but I don’t see what other choice I have,” says Jared quietly, staring at the hands he grips over the top of his cane. 

In other cases, Jared has never been willing to bend to demands, and he has testified on many occasions against criminals who have stolen from his collection. His resolve is only as strong as the guaranteed safety of the ones he loves.

“This is my grandson, Ignis…”

“I know, and I will do my best to find him.” That is as close to a promise as Ignis can manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaand apologies to the Hester family for doing this to them :C


	20. Chapter 20

Noctis has never been angrier at a case. Taking a child from his home is a heinous crime, and Noctis would love to take a swing at the asshole who did it. Even if Noctis is new to his job, he’s aware of the statistical outcomes of kidnappings. 

Ignis leaves Aranea and Nyx with Jared in case there are any phone calls from the kidnapper. Another agent comes by to pick up Gladiolus and take him to the nursing home, where they will question Jared’s childhood friend. 

Noctis sits in the car with Ignis and waits for him to make a phone call to some agent in Niflheim.

“Hello, this is Agent Scientia from the LBI. Yes, you’ve worked with me before.” A pause. “Yes, that’s exactly why I’m calling you. We think it might be related to our current case.”

Noctis drums his fingers on his knees and thinks about who he might be able to ask for help. It’s best not to get Prompto involved in this one. If putting kids in danger upsets LBI members, they have nothing on the way Prompto will react. But there is Cor. He’s a marshal and just might have the resources to assist them without losing his head.

Ignis ends the call and turns to Noctis.

“Agent Tummelt has informed me that he’s been hearing whispers about Ulldor in Insomnia. I think Jared might be right about him as our suspect.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going back to the bureau to do some research.”

Research? Noctis curls his nose. “That’s your great plan? Shouldn’t we be doing leg work on this case?”

“If I start poking my nose into Ulldor’s whereabouts by asking around, it could tip him off that we’ve figured out he’s responsible. I don’t want to endanger Talcott.”

“You’re sure this is the guy?”

“Undoubtedly. If he can name the swords…” Ignis sighs. “I should have kept better eye on him after his release.”

“What about you and Aranea? You said he’s pissed off at you.”

“Which means that Aranea and I should be careful about our involvement. Ulldor knew Jared would come to us for help when his grandson went missing.”

“So this isn’t about the swords?” 

“No, it is. He wanted them before, but now he wants our heads as well.”

Noctis suddenly feels queasy sitting in the parking garage of Jared’s apartment complex. Returning to the bureau where Ignis will be safe sounds like a good plan. “Let’s go,” Noctis murmurs, pulling on his seat belt. He doesn’t rest easy for the next fifteen minutes, when they’re both safely in the elevator, returning to their office.

Ignis goes straight to Clarus to discuss what they’ve discovered. That leaves Noctis with enough privacy to send a text to Prompto to have Cor contact him as soon as possible. Reading through Ulldor’s file passes the time. No more than ten minutes passes before Noctis’ phone informs him of a message from an unknown number. It’s just says ‘Carbuncle’—a code from Cor. Which means Noctis can now contact whatever burner phone Cor is using this week.

He wanders up to one of the other agents he never talks to, one who is known for smoking. 

“Hey, mind giving me a cigarette?” asks Noctis, trying to sound casual. “Quitting’s a lot easier when you don’t have to deal with kidnappings.”

The agent nods sympathetically and hands him one.

“Thanks.” 

Noctis has never in his life had a cigarette. Only once, when he was fourteen, had he dared consider trying. He had been helping Prompto and Weskham at the restaurant. One of the patrons left his pack on the bar, and in a moment of unguarded freedom, Noctis tried to slip a single stick into his pocket while Prompto sawed off his nails with his teeth in fear of getting caught. And caught they had been. By Cor, no less, who had knocked their heads together and promised to tan their hides if he ever saw them even _look_ at a cigarette. Noctis tries not to clench is backside in fear as he wanders up to the rooftop with his excuse for being there hanging from his lips. 

He doesn’t light it. Just in case—if anyone comes looking—he will. For now, he lets it rest between his fingers and dials up Cor. It rings once before the marshal answers.

“What is it?”

“Cor, I need your help on a case.”

“Don’t you have other marshals you can consult? Is that agent with you? I told you not to call me like thi—” 

“Some guy kidnapped a kid, and he wants to kill Ignis.”

There’s silence, and Noctis feels his stomach flip so hard he considers lighting the cigarette and puffing on it to stim his anxiety. Now he’s beginning to understand why people smoke when they’re stressed. 

“Do you know anything about Caligo Ulldor?” asks Noctis, glancing at the rooftop entrance to see if anyone is coming. 

“Ulldor? Noctis, don’t get involved.”

Noctis scowls. “It’s my job.”

“And whose fault is that?” 

Noctis winces at the sharpness in Cor’s voice. “Wouldn’t have to, if you’d found my dad already.”

“Excuse me? What do you think Weskham and I have been doing for ages, aside from raising you—which I’m thinking I did all wrong, if you think you can give me lip.” 

Noctis is too frightened to speak in the silence that follows. The fear soon turns to annoyance, and his annoyance, he does something defiant. He leans against the edge of the rooftop so he faces the door and pulls his matchbox out of his pocket. With the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, he pinches the filter of the cigarette between his lips and lights up. With one deep inhale to keep the end burning, he fills his lungs and throat with the burn of its taste.

And immediately begins hacking his lungs out.

“Noctis, what’s going on?”

Shit. Noctis holds the cigarette away from him and spits a wad of saliva off the side of the building. 

“Had to pretend I was taking a smoke break to talk to you,” he admits. “Wasn’t going to smoke it, but you pissed me off.”

“You punk,” grumbles Cor. “We didn’t work on your senses of taste and smell so you could burn them off with tobacco. Do me a favor and smoke the entire thing.”

“Why?” asks Noctis suspiciously.

“We’ll see if you dare smoke again after you make yourself sick.” Cor waits a beat before switching the subject. “Tell me about this kidnapping. What did Ulldor pull?”

Noctis fills him in on the situation, speaking quickly as he watches the cigarette burn itself down closer to the filter. Every so often, he flicks the ashes away. He doesn’t dare take another drag.

“Listen, Noctis, I can’t tell you everything I know, but you cannot show yourself to Ulldor. You can’t get involved in this case.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Ulldor works for enemies of your father. You look a little like Regis, and I don’t want him to recognize you. Don’t put yourself in danger. Find an excuse to sit yourself out of this one.”

“But there’s a kid involved!”

There’s a slight pause while Noctis stews in the heat of his anger, and he suspects Cor’s equally as pissed off at him. Finally, Cor breaks the silence.

“You owe me one for what I’m going to do,” says Cor. “Give Ignis some excuse why you need to sit this one out, and go home. I’ll see what I can do from my office to help yours. And Noctis?”

“Yeah?”

“What’d I tell you about smoking?”

Noctis gulps audibly and immediately drops the cigarette, crushing its butt beneath the toe of his boot. 

“I ever find out you tried to smoke again, I’ll kick you in the ass so hard it exits your mouth.”

“Yessir.”

Noctis slumps against the edge of the roof, back to the several-story drop behind him, and leans forward over his phone. He’s not sure what feels worse—the scratchy feeling left in his nose and throat, the information Cor imparted to him about Ulldor, or trying to come up with an excuse on why he should abandon Ignis during such an important case. 

When he wanders back into the building, Ignis is waiting for him.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Noctis shrugs. “I thought I broke the habit, too, but I guess I’m that stressed out.”

“Stressed you may be, but you don’t smoke.” The way Ignis says it is so matter-of-fact, Noctis would almost think he saw straight into his past. “Why were you really up on the roof?”

“Had to take a personal call.” The best way to avoid a lie or the truth is to tell a partial fact.

“I see…” Ignis’ voice is softer. “Is it about your father?”

“Yeah.” It feels nice to not have to fib.

Ignis nods and doesn’t pursue it any further. “Are you all right?” 

“I’m not sure. I’m worried about Talcott.” Even if Noctis doesn’t know how to process Ulldor’s connection with his father, the kidnapped child remains a priority. “And you—what if Ulldor gets what he wants and kills you? Or Aranea?” Worse, what if both agents and Talcott end up dead?

Ignis shakes his head. “You can’t think like that. I put my life at risk every day in order to see that these criminals face justice. Directing their wrath at me is an unfortunate side effect of the job. Ulldor is hardly the first enemy I’ve ever made.”

Noctis bites back the urge to ask, “How do you do it?” Because the last thing he wants is to compromise his relationship with the LBI. Not because it means going back to jail.

No, it’ll take him away from Ignis, and Noctis’ heart cannot bear the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a habit of writing Cor being nice to small Noctis and a bit of a gruff hardass externally (soft internally) towards adult Noctis. Whoops?
> 
> Neal doesn't tend to smoke but _has_ in order to obtain information by taking "smoke breaks", so I decided to incorporate that into this, too? But like...Noct, bby, pls don't smoke. Iggy won't like it. (That's all Cor has to tell him to get him to never do it again, tbh)


	21. Chapter 21

Cor curses under his breath as he stands in front of the LBI building. It has been over two years since he last stepped inside. His stay was short in an attempt not to overstay his welcome. But thanks to Noctis’ meddling—and Cor’s admitted soft spot when it comes to those kids he helped raise—he’s here again with little warning. 

Damn that irresponsible prince. They all want to find Regis again. If Cor and the others had known Noctis would utilize all his training to work for the LBI, they never would have taught it to him. 

The bureau’s layout is familiar. Cor has been here a few times in the last decade, and he knows the route to every division. His badge and credentials are checked thoroughly, and once he’s permitted inside, he takes the elevator up to talk to Clarus Amicitia. A few agents nod at him in recognition, and he nods back. It doesn’t bother him to be here, but he hopes Noctis has taken his advice and gone home.

Upon arriving at his destination, Cor spots Ignis first. He’s chatting to someone whose face is hidden behind a computer monitor. How much does Cor want to bet that’s Noctis, having discarded all advice to leave?

As Cor crosses the path between the desks, eyes fall on him. Clarus notices his entrance from his office and rises to his feet. They exchange knowing grim expressions.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for Ignis’ eyes to rest on Cor. There’s a moment of recognition. They have never worked together, but they have both seen each other at Noctis’ trial. With a wit as sharp as Ignis’, it won’t take long before the agent puts the pieces together. It doesn’t help that Noctis pokes his head up from behind the monitor and immediately shows his surprise.

Ignis catches it. His gaze switches between the two, but Cor strolls past them both and greets Clarus, who has met him halfway. A quick, professional handshake later, and Clarus is sweeping him into his office and shutting the blinds against a room full of trained lip-readers.

Clarus lowers into his chair and faces Cor, who hovers by the door. “I’ve been told you were put on this case, to work alongside Monica and Dustin. You weren’t originally assigned to it, were you?” 

Cor nods in confirmation. “Noctis called me. He’s worried about Ignis. Send Noctis back to prison, Clarus. I don’t want him working with that agent—or for the LBI, for that matter.”

“I don’t have any justification for doing that,” says Clarus.

It’s at the tip of Cor’s tongue to say “they’re romantic”, but he knows they aren’t dating. Is it against agency rules? Noctis is no normal informant, and all Clarus has to do is shuffle Noctis over to another handler if the two are dating. There are no grounds for shipping him back to prison unless he’s done something wrong.

Which he probably _has_ , but Cor can’t safely take that route without Noctis suffering further consequences. 

“Cor, how long can we protect him from the truth?” There’s sadness in Clarus’ voice. “You knew this was coming.”

Cor did, but it doesn’t mean he has to be at peace with it. Perhaps anyone other than Weskham and himself should have seen to Noctis’ training. Someone with a colder heart would have only seen Noctis as a useful tool in the equation. That person would not have the attachment Cor does now. All Cor sees is a young man who’s still transitioning—badly—out of his reckless boyhood. 

“The only reason I didn’t knock him unconscious and smuggle him out of the country is because I knew you’d look after him, Clarus, but I’m beginning to regret that.” 

Clarus lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You’d shelter him forever?”

“How much does _your_ son know?” Cor knows the answer. Years ago, they all agreed that most of the children in their circle should be left in the dark about their families’ pasts. With time, fewer of their enemies would recognize the youngest generation. That would give Gladiolus and the others a chance to live normal lives.

For several reasons, Noctis didn’t have that luxury. Being the prince makes it hard enough, but his father’s activities did not aid him. Prompto’s situation was no better. Prompto’s early life hadn’t granted him entry to a better path, either, and Cor did the best he could if only by rescuing him. That gave the children each a friend by putting the boys together. Growing up isolated is less hard if you have at least one friend. 

“Do you think my son is safe? He’s another agent here at the bureau, working alongside all of us. He’s made his own enemies. My job has always put both my children in danger. Saying we should stop hiding in the shadows, hoping for a chance to take down Aldercapt, will mean sticking my neck out in a way that puts them at further risk, but I’m doing it because I think Noctis deserves to make his own choices.”

Clarus—being much older than Cor—has always had more wisdom. It’s easy to respect him.

“You’re right.” Cor takes a deep breath. “That doesn’t make me feel better about Ulldor. He might take one look at Noctis and see traces of Regis in his face.”

“They bear a bit of a resemblance,” Clarus agrees, stroking the stubble on his chin. “But right now, I’m more worried about Talcott. You know the history of the Hester family.”

“Talcott’s one of the reasons I’m here,” says Cor. “When Noctis first mentioned Ulldor, he didn’t mention the kidnapping. Once he filled me in, I knew I had to get involved. Did Jared recognize Noctis when they met?”

“I warned him ahead of time, to prepare him. He wasn’t too pleased to find out we’ve let Noctis into the bureau.” Clarus raises an eyebrow. “I’m not happy with how this has turned out, either, Cor. He should never have gotten arrested in the first place. Weskham and you both had shared responsibility in raising him. Perhaps I should have been the one to take him, but the others felt that it would put Gladio and Iris in danger.”

Those conversations seem a lifetime ago to Cor. A lot of work had been put into ensuring that Noctis was brought to a safe location and trained for any inevitable threat to his safety. Back when Mors was no more than a scrappy teenager and Clarus’ mother barely older, the Aldercapt family orchestrated an attack on the Citadel. Clarus’ grandfather managed to escape with both children and Mors' baby sister. Through a tight system of associations, the kids were brought up in a world different from the one they started in.

Mors was the one who took in Cor when he was no more than thirteen. Cor had been shuffled around in foster homes and never found a place to call home. Running away had been the best choice he ever made. 

It isn’t an easy life for a kid, even if it means having people to call family. Everyone has to live outside the law and make it work. A portion of them have focused on retrieving artifacts important to the royal family. Cor didn’t mind and even respected it.

But it was different for Noctis and Prompto. Those two have always been gentler souls. To their credit, they raise to their roles admirably for the most part. But it hasn’t been without a lot of tough love and fighting.

“I can never figure out if I was too hard or too soft on them,” admits Cor. “Maybe I was too strict when I should have been understanding, and not strict enough where I was too soft.”

“An easy mistake,” says Clarus. “How can you not want to parent them, when they’re children? I have no right to talk. I raised my children as a father, not just as a mentor. Nonetheless, I would say both of mine are far better disciplined than yours. I would have offered you advice, had you contacted me.”

There’s a hint of teasing in Clarus’ voice, but it is only because they both know the time has long passed for them to do anything about the predicament Noctis has created for them.

“He wanted to see his father. That’s why he’s here.”

“I’m well aware of his reasons. Ignis is, too—he figured it out before Noctis was even arrested a second time. Don’t underestimate my agents, Cor. They’re good at their jobs.”

“Then we should probably stop talking about Noctis and focus on Talcott, before they get suspicious.”

“I agree.” Clarus leans back in his chair. “Two of your marshals and two of my agents are at the Hester family home, monitoring the phones and Jared’s security. Two other agents are visiting a friend of Jared’s at her nursing home. I don’t know if I can keep Noctis and Ignis at their desks. Ignis is my best agent for this, but Ulldor has threatened him and one other agent for their involvement in his previous arrest.”

“So I’ve been told.” 

Several quick raps at the door interrupt them. Cor answers and comes face to face with Ignis. A tablet is tucked under his arms. He wears a dark, angry expression.

“The kidnapper sent a video,” says Ignis grimly. “You ought to see this.”

All of them gather behind Clarus’ desk so they can view the video together. The little boy—Talcott—sits in a chair with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms hugged around his body. Just seeing that part of the video makes Cor want to punch something.

Talcott’s voice trembles, and his eyes focus on something behind the camera. A script, which becomes clearer with each word he speaks.

“Grandpa? Grandpa, they want your sw-swords.” Talcott follows with a location for the meet-up, a deadline, and the worst part: the kidnapper makes him confirm a threat to his wellbeing if Jared doesn’t comply. A timer at the top of the screen ticks away each second that they waste. They have less than fourteen hours.

“Those fucking cowards,” says Cor, straightening up with his hands on his hips. “Has Hester seen this?”

“Yes,” says Ignis. “We’re having agents look into the website it was posted on.”

“Can I see this video again?” Cor gestures to the tablet. “Full volume.”

“Very well.” Ignis taps the play on the video. Ignoring Talcott, Cor hears the distinct sound of a ship in the background.

“Docks. Brick infrastructure—that doesn’t narrow it down much. Damn all the water on every side of Insomnia.” Cor hears something else and snatches up the tablet to rewind a few seconds. Yes, he’s certain he hears a loud bell, too, chiming the hour. “The sea goddess shrine?” asks Cor.

“That’s near the water, and there are warehouses across the street,” confirms Clarus, his demeanor changing as they all grasp onto this little glimmer of hope. “I’ll send a team out to scout the area while the rest of us prepare for a raid. Cor?”

“I’m on it,” says Cor, pulling out his cell phone and finding the most reserved corner to send out an alert to every marshal on the case and working beneath him. With any luck, they’ll be able to rescue Talcott alive and have him back in his grandfather’s arms by the end of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notes for this case are different from how it ended up being written. Cor was supposed to be consulted, not involved! But this dude just...strolled in anyway. This works out better than what I had planned. :') Anyway! Big reveal on Clarus~


	22. Chapter 22

Noctis bounces his knee as they near the warehouse district. According to their reconnaissance team, there has been some suspicious activity on the street parallel to the one that leads to the shrine of the sea goddess. A man was seeing slipping into a warehouse via a back alleyway, and photos the agents sent have already identified him as a Caligo Ulldor using facial recognition software.

That was two hours ago. No other activity has been reported. As a precaution everyone has been geared up in bulletproof vests. Noctis is one of the few who doesn’t carry any weapon, and he has already been told he will sit outside with Clarus’ team while the raid is conducted by Ignis, Cor, and their teams.

“What about the kid?” asks Noctis as soon as he catches a glimpse of the district and the ocean it rests alongside.

“We’ll get him out of there,” says Ignis softly. “We won’t go in recklessly, Noctis.”

“How do you know Ulldor works alone?” Noctis overheard some of the agents discussing this earlier, when they were theorizing how many people might be in the warehouse.

“He doesn’t play well with others,” says Ignis. “We suspect he was working beneath a much larger crime organization back when I first arrested him. He’s a man who demands respect but seldom receives it. During the trial, whoever he worked for cut him off and left him to fend on his own, as these organizations tend to do with their underlings when they’re caught. I suspect he is trying to acquire the swords to get back within their ranks. He’s not a man who’ll want to share credit.”

Noctis slips further into his seat. “Is it really that dangerous inside the warehouse, if he’s the only guy?”

“In case he’s managed to recruit a lackey or two, we need to be careful. And it’s important we find Talcott first. His safety is priority.”

Some of their two hours before leaving the bureau was spent poring over blueprints of the building. The warehouses are mostly abandoned in this area. A few were torn down to make more room for the shrine’s parking in the past, and officials would like to see the rest demolished in an attempt to beautify the area. Most are crumbling at their foundations from time and neglect. It won’t be long before the city of Insomnia gets its wish to bulldoze the area and turn it into fancy apartments and maybe a little park.

The dangers the warehouses pose add more concerns to the agents who’ll be infiltrating them. Noctis can only be reassured that Ignis and his team will look out for one-another. The same with Cor’s, too. 

Noctis is surprised Ignis hasn’t asked about Cor. Like an idiot, he made it clear from his expression he recognized the marshal when he strolled into their office to speak to Clarus. He shouldn’t have been surprised; Cor’s job has required him to work with several divisions of the LBI both in the past and more recently.

Cor has taken the north side of the warehouse, while Ignis approaches the south. They park their cars a block over, with Clarus waiting at a nearby corner. 

“Good luck, Ignis,” says Noctis, unable to hide his nerves. 

“I’ll be all right, Noctis.”

“You better.” 

Noctis joins Clarus’ side and remains quiet while Clarus listens to an incoming message from someone on Cor’s team. They’ve managed to see inside the building, but there is no sign of activity there. That’s one less place they suspected Ulldor might be keeping Talcott. 

Noctis doesn’t appreciate having to sit out for this one. He’s not an agent, only an asset. Regardless of his training with a weapon under his mentors, he doesn’t care for the idea of using one, and he’d never be permitted to have one as a CI. Nonetheless, Noctis feels useless. All the other agents on the outside are prepared for anyone who might try to escape the warehouse. Noctis is merely a spectator.

Clarus continues taking reports, leaving Noctis to fidget. He gives one searing glare in Noctis’ direction, as if commanding him to hold still, and Noctis stills if only for a few minutes. 

“Clarus, he’s not on any of the upper floors,” says Ignis through his mic.

“All right,” says Clarus, his voice heavier with each disappointing report.

“Are we sure this is the right building?” asks Noctis, hands in pockets. No one pays attention to him. Another report comes from Cor, this time informing Clarus that the locks on the offices have been picked by their team and inside shows no signs of recent activity.

They keep looking in all the wrong spots. It’s true that this is the warehouse that Ulldor was spotted slipping into, but the blueprints showed some kind of basement beneath the building. The stairwells were sealed up, but what if there is some other way to get inside? Did the agents think to check every entrance beneath ground? They know that they’re boarded up from the inside and many of the window sills cemented in, but what if…

Noctis abandons Clarus at a run. His knee protests, as does Clarus.

“Get back here, Caelum!” 

There’s no pursuit. All the other agents are at their stations, focusing on the same goal as Noctis: recover the child and arrest Ulldor and any other possible criminals within.

Noctis slips around the outside of the warehouse, ducking out of sight from the upper windows and following the brick from basement window to basement window. Each one proves that it was sealed off, long ago, with cement. 

All but one. Someone has tried to cover it up with a large dumpster, but once that’s out of the way, it reveals an entry point. Chunks of cement were drilled into and pushed aside, and the boards that covered the window have been snapped off and tossed to the side with the rest of the debris. It’s a marvel the glass is even still intact.

There are fingerprints on the glass, too fresh to be more than a few days old, but not recent enough to suggest that this has been an entry point for some time. Noctis, having the foresight to take photos of the blueprints on his phone, pulls them up as he leans against the brick. According to the layout, the two stairwells into the basement are not by this window. With any hope, Ulldor won’t hear him entering if he slips inside.

Noctis eases the window open and pokes his head in. It’s a storage room filled with rusted metal shelving and disintegrating wooden crates covered in rat droppings. Older shoe prints cut through the dust towards the door leading out into the hallway. No sounds can be heard.

Noctis withdraws his head and begins entering, legs first. He toes his way along the brick, trying to find the best foothold. It’s only a foot drop once he’s hanging from the window, and he lets loose and lands with a thump on the cement beneath. 

Pausing at the door, Noctis presses an ear near the gap between it and the wall and listens. There doesn’t appear to be any noises from below—only above, where he can hear muffled footsteps.

Noctis enters the hallway, counting the doors on the side in case he needs to hurry into one. He takes a dusty wooden board in hand. It’s all that will work in his favor if he comes face to face with Ulldor. It isn’t too thick, allowing him to hold it in one hand as he checks room after room for a sign of life. He finds footprints near one of the stairwells. Sure enough, someone has destroyed the boards that covered it, and there’s now a trap door that is likely covered up on the floor below. If the agents aren’t looking for it, they won’t find it. 

A few paces away, Noctis swears he hears a sob. He waits, listening, and it comes again—just on the other side of the staircase, from one of the nearby rooms. Noctis isn’t sure if Ulldor will be there, or if he has managed to recruit lackeys as Ignis suggested, but he follows the noise until he can hear it right outside the door.

Leaning against the wall on one side, he reaches over and knocks once. The sobbing stops. There is no other noise after that, and no one answers the door. 

Praying he hasn’t put Talcott in more danger, Noctis reaches over to turn the doorknob and finds it locked. That’s all right. It’s an easy one to pick. With barely any work, it gives, and Noctis turns the knob. The room is empty, except for the little boy from the video. 

“Talcott?” whispers Noctis.

The child nods. 

“Where’s Ulldor?”

Talcott points upward. “Needed an outlet for something,” he whispers back.

“Is anyone else here?”

Talcott shakes his head. 

Noctis bends down and gestures Talcott to come nearer. “Let’s get you back to your grandfather before he comes back.” 

Unsurprisingly, Talcott hesitates in a moment of suspicion, but then, after a minute, dives for Noctis’ arms and sobs against his shoulder. Noctis allows him to lean into him as he stands, hoisting the eight-year-old into his arms with one hand rubbing his back. With no way to carry his board and the child at the same time, he leans it against the wall and escorts Talcott out of his prison. Despite that Talcott hasn’t seen any henchmen, Noctis looks out for them anyway as an added precaution.

Once they’re back at the window, Noctis points to the open window. “I’ll lift you up. If you head to the left, running as fast as you can, there’s an agent waiting down the street. Do you understand?”

Talcott nods, clearly too shaken to speak much. Despite his obvious fear, he cooperates admirably in assisting Noctis as he’s lifted toward the opening of the window. Just as Noctis is pushing him up so that Talcott’s knees are both on the cement, they hear the loud pop of a gunshot.

Both of them freeze. Noctis waits, wide-eyed, before hissing, “Go, go!” 

Talcott doesn’t need much further prompting. It takes him seconds to finish pushing through the window, still scrambling to his feet as he hurries to the left side of the building. Noctis then hoists himself up on a crate and pulls himself up through the window. 

Talcott is already several yards ahead of him by the time Noctis joins him on the street. Noctis hears several other gunshots, each one making him wince and duck reflexively. 

Clarus is wide-eyed in surprise when he sees the boy approaching, Noctis not far behind him. He opens his arms and allows the child into them. Speaking into his mouthpiece, Noctis hears him ask what’s going on inside.

“Gunshots,” says Aranea from the other side. “Ulldor is down, but he shot Ignis first.”

_He shot Ignis first._

Noctis stops, the color draining from his face. He hears Clarus yell something, but he doesn’t process it. Did the bulletproof vest protect him? Is he alive? Is he okay? 

Noctis tries to ask, but he cannot find his voice.


	23. Chapter 23

Ignis’ wound is far from fatal. He knew that from the moment he was shot. The bullet grazed his cheek and the bottom of his ear, and he is taken to a nearby hospital for a total of seven stitches. Had Ulldor hit more dead-on, the shot might have killed him. 

Crowe drops Luna off at the hospital so she and Ignis can take a bus to the warehouse and retrieve his car. Being on painkillers means he won’t be able to drive for a while. His head is a little loopy, anyway. If not for wanting to find out what else happened—outside of Aranea’s texts that inform him that Talcott is safe thanks to Noctis—he would have Luna accompany him straight home. Instead, he asks her to make a stop at the bureau first.

Jared is sitting in Clarus’ office, holding his grandson in an embrace. Their sobs can be heard as soon as Ignis enters. The sight is heartwarming. For such a dirty case, it’s the best end they could have hoped for.

Clarus notices Ignis and beckons him inside his private office as Jared leads Talcott out. Jared pauses, indicating Ignis’ cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he says, bowing.

“This is part of my job,” says Ignis. “Ulldor ought to be the one who is sorry—and we’ll see to it that he is.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for all you’ve done to get my grandson back. I can’t thank all of you enough.” 

“We’re happy to see he’s safe.” Ignis smiles down at Talcott. “Is that a cactuar on your shirt?” It can’t be the shirt the boy was kidnapped in—it’s likely a change of clothes Jared brought along. No doubt they’ll be throwing the old ones out if they haven’t already.

Talcott grins, though he still clings to his grandfather’s side. “Yeah!”

“Cactuars are his favorite,” says Jared, chuckling and ruffling the child’s hair. “In fact, I think after this, we’re going home to have a feast of cactuar-shaped foods.”

“That sounds delightful!” 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be great!” There’s a little hint of forced enthusiasm in Talcott, as if the child is attempting a brave front after all he’s been through. As a result, Jared draws him in a little closer. Almost as if to tell him, _it’s all right to be upset._

“Please take care, and enjoy your cactuar dinner.” Ignis bows before ducking into Clarus’ office. He watches them go for a moment before he turns to his boss.

“Close the door.”

Only when Ignis obeys does he realize Noctis is sitting in the office, too, lowered into a chair like a schoolboy outside the principal’s office. As soon as he casts his eyes up at Ignis, he averts them again, grimacing. It must be the sight of the bandages on Ignis’ face.

“It doesn’t hurt right now,” says Ignis. “My face is a bit numb from the painkillers.”

“You told me you’d be safe,” grumbles Noctis.

“If you were worried about safety, why’d you enter the crime scene?” snaps Clarus, and Noctis flinches. It’s clear that Clarus has already reamed Noctis several times over.

“What exactly happened?” asks Ignis, taking a seat across from Clarus’ desk. 

Clarus informs him of Noctis’ stunt. The more Ignis hears, the more he understands why his boss is not only pissed, but conflicted. It’s true that Noctis managed to find Talcott and bring him out safely. But for Noctis to charge in, unarmed, and put his own life at risk…

Noctis sighs. “You’ve already yelled at me. Can I go home now?”

“I suppose you can,” says Clarus with a sigh. “I’d assign you to other duties for a couple of weeks if it wasn’t already obvious that Ignis shouldn’t be on the field until he heals.”

Ignis isn’t entirely happy to hear that he’s likely to be stuck on desk duty, but the news isn’t surprising, either. He has Ulldor to thank for that.

Noctis slinks out of the office, casting a few glances in Ignis’ direction as he goes. 

“He’s more upset that you were injured than he was about being yelled at,” admits Clarus. He tilts his head at Ignis. “Are you really feeling all right?”

“Like I said, I’m on painkillers. My face is a bit numb. I only came by to find out what happened and see if I could catch the reunion. Luna’s with me, so I have a driver.”

Clarus nods past the glass behind Ignis. “Yeah, I can see her. She’s chatting up Aranea.”

“There’s one last thing I’d like to address.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, about Cor Leonis—that marshal that helped us with our case? I think he might know Noctis.” Ignis is sure of it, because he is sure he once overheard Prompto mention someone with that exact same first name. 

“In what way, do you suspect?” asks Clarus seriously.

“It appears to be a personal relationship. I remember seeing him at Noctis’ trial. I didn’t think much of it until this morning, when Leonis entered our office. The way Noctis reacted doesn’t suggest that he only knows him as a marshal. There was something far more familiar about his shock.”

Clarus leans back in his chair, scratching the stubble on his chin. “I don’t know much about Leonis, but I never thought him the type to consort with criminals. Do you think Caelum would talk about it, if you prod him?”

“On your advice, I’ve avoided too much digging.” 

“Oh, of course.”

Ignis hesitates before continuing. “Do you think Noctis was in protective custody before this?” 

Clarus nods. “That’s a good possibility. I’ll leave it to your judgement if you want to pursue this matter or not. Remember, you might not like what you find out.”

That doesn’t help Ignis in making a decision. It’s normally not difficult to figure out what he’ll say or do next, after some thought, but every step he takes with Noctis has been tricky. 

“Thank you, Clarus. I’ll be headed home.”

“Take some time off and rest,” commands Clarus. “That’s not a suggestion, it’s an order. I’ll make Gladio carry you back home and sit on you if you don’t listen to me.”

Ignis laughs. “Of course.”

Noctis is long gone by the time Ignis joins up with Luna. After some advice from fellow agents—including a threat from Gladiolus that is unsurprisingly similar to that of his father’s—Ignis and Luna pack into his car to head home. Ignis fully intends to take Clarus up on his advice to rest. In fact, he’ll start on his new order as soon as he returns home.

~*~

Ignis doesn’t sleep through the day. Even after shutting down his alarm, the habit of waking up—along with the pain as his medication wears off—forces him out of bed early in the morning. Luna stays home to take care of him, making a few work-related calls in the kitchen.

Before Ignis can settle into the sofa in his living room with a book, there’s a knock at the door. Luna dashes out of the kitchen in the middle of making cookie dough and answers.

“Noctis,” she says, before Ignis even sees him step into the house.

Noctis pokes his head around, a small package in his hands, all tied up with curling ribbons from a professional shop. 

“Hey.”

“Morning, Noctis.”

“This is for you.” Noctis sets the present on the coffee table in front of Ignis. There’s a blush spread across his cheeks, and he doesn’t meet Ignis’ face.

The gift by itself might have meant nothing more than concern for Ignis’ welfare after yesterday. His expression and mannerisms suggest that Noctis is not embarrassed by giving Ignis a present, but rather by the feelings behind it. Noctis has never seemed like a person who bestows gifts often, anyway—meaning Ignis was worth the trouble.

“Thank you, Noctis,” says Ignis, staring at the box. It seems wrong to accept it now that he knows this is more than an apology or get-well-soon gift.

“Go on, open it,” urges Noctis.

Ignis pops the lid off and parts the tissue with his fingers, revealing a lovely—and rather expensive-looking—tie inside. It’s deep purple with darker swirls on it. 

“Yours had blood on it. Thought you might need a new one.” Noctis’ ears turn pink, and he still won’t look Ignis in the eyes. 

“Ah, yes.” As soon as Ignis came home, he tossed the old one—along with his shirt—in the bin. “I have others, Noctis.”

Noctis finally meets his gaze. “Well, now you have another. It suits you.”

“Yes, yes it does.” That much, Ignis can admit. “Thank you, Noctis.”

Ignis sets the lid down next to the box and casts his gaze to Luna, who has returned to the kitchen and is finishing up cleaning while the cookie dough chills in the fridge. She pauses in wiping down the counter to give him a knowing smirk.

For an agent, he must seem awfully daft not to have figured this out sooner.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” asks Ignis dully, because he already knows Noctis will be here whether or not he receives an invite.

“Thanks.” Noctis takes a chair across from Ignis and stretches back. “Are you going back to work tomorrow?”

“Clarus insists I take some time off, but he didn’t say how much. We’ll see if he can keep me out of the office after today.” 

“I had a feeling you might say that.”

“From what I understand, Clarus gave you quite the telling-off yesterday. I can’t say I’m too pleased with you, even if you intend to pacify me with a gift.” Even if the tie isn’t for that purpose, Ignis can’t help but make the statement—as if trying to convince himself that it isn’t because his CI has developed feelings.

Feelings Ignis hates to admit he shares.

“Do you plan on giving me one, too?” asks Noctis, sounding resigned to his fate.

“I suppose you already know I disapprove, but I’m also grateful you thought to doublecheck the basement.”

“You would’ve found Talcott anyway.”

“Yes, we might have. Ulldor found us first.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Noctis’s finger taps his ear before moving a path along his cheek, gaze on the bandages over parts of Ignis’ face. “Are you taking your painkillers?”

“I took one when I woke up. I hardly feel a thing.” That isn’t entirely true. The injury stings mildly, and the stitches make his ear and cheek itch. The prescription painkillers aren’t nearly as strong as the ones they gave Ignis at the hospital, either.

“That’s good.” There’s something about Noctis’ demeanor that Ignis can’t immediately read. “You know, I’d feel better if you at least yelled at me.”

At least? What could Noctis possibly mean by that? “You can stop sulking. I know you don’t feel the least bit guilty for what you did yesterday.” 

Noctis stiffens, eyes widening momentarily. “Well, I mean, I guess I don’t regret what I did, no.”

“There you have it. And you’ll do it again, whether I yell at your or not.” How often has Ignis reprimanded his CI, only for Noctis to pull yet another stunt? 

“I don’t want locked up again. I need…” Noctis’ voice tightens to a whisper. “Your guidance? Advice?”

No, it’s something else, but Noctis isn’t saying what, and Ignis is too afraid to ask. What if it means pursuing that feeling harboring in Noctis’ heart? Such a relationship is not only unprofessional, but they’re at odds with one another after every case. And it’s always because of one of Noctis’ not-so-little stunts. 

“I’ve been giving you advice. It’s up to you whether or not you want to take it.” The words are plain and perhaps a bit harsher than Ignis intended. To soften the matter, he switches the subject to lunch. “What would you like to eat? Luna has offered to cook me whatever I please today.”

Noctis cocks his head to the side and grins. “Pizza?”

“I can make a delicious five cheese pizza,” calls Luna from the kitchen.

“Fine,” says Ignis. “Pizza it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are usually unpredictable with me, but they might be more so because of some major irl and personal complications. (One being that I'm having to clear out my room pretty hastily because of storm damage; one corner of my room is unusable and repairs will require me to move all my stuff out. Plus there's damage elsewhere. I'm writing in-between boxing everything up.) 
> 
> That said, I didn't want to not update with such a massive cliffhanger, assuming that's something that even bothered anyone but me. haha.


	24. Chapter 24

When Noctis arrives home from visiting Ignis, Cor and Prompto are waiting in his loft. They both look up when they hear the door open. Between them is a box with an expensive camera displayed on the front. It must be a replacement for the one Prompto lost at Malmalam. 

Any dread Noctis might have felt at having to face Cor vanishes when he sees Prompto’s face.

“What’s that thing growing on you?” Noctis pauses in the doorway of his loft and laughs at the patch of fuzz on Prompto’s chin.

“A goatee!” 

Noctis pulls off his jacket, nudges the door of his apartment closed with the tip of his foot, and begins discarding his clothing for more comfortable wear. He digs his sweatpants out from under the cushions of the sofa and tugs them on. 

“Looks bad,” he says, once he finishes undressing and joins Prompto and Cor at the table. “Shave it off.”

Prompto strokes at it instead. “It’s my new disguise! Changed my hairstyle, too, if you can’t tell.”

“Yeah, still looks like a chocobo butt. Can’t say I see much of a difference.” 

“Cindy thought it was cute. She giggled.”

“I’m pretty sure she was laughing at you.”

“Boys.” The way Cor says it—in the same tone he would use on them when they were younger—makes both of them snap to attention. 

“Way to make us feel small again,” grumbles Noctis. 

“You could use knocked down a few pegs.” 

“He wants Ignis to do that,” chirps Prompto cheerfully, earning him a jab in the ribs with Noctis’ elbow.

“Enough!” Cor turns to Prompto, voice softening. “Why don’t you go see if Cid or Cindy need help with anything?”

Prompto casts his gaze over to Noctis, and despite his obvious nerves, he lets out a low whistle. “Sure.” He hops up, patting Noctis on the shoulder. “Good luck, buddy.”

Noctis wilts in his chair. No luck in the world can save him. His ears are blistering, and the lecture hasn’t even started. If Ignis won’t even yell at him, why should Clarus and Cor be allowed?

“Why are you nicer to Prompto?” asks Noctis, resting his arms on the table and drooping over them.

“The list of shit he’s pulled is a lot shorter than yours. We could start with how Prompto doesn’t work for the LBI now. He’s not in love with an LBI agent, either.”

The last sentence nearly makes Noctis choke. “What? No, no, you’ve got it all wrong.”

Cor’s eyebrow raises sharply, like the quick snap of a whip. 

“Fine. I do. Nothing’s going to come of it. Ignis doesn’t even like me that much.”

“Is that why he let you be his CI? Why he’s lets you get away with your stunts? I know more than you think I do about your situation. Prompto filled me in on what happened with the chocobos.”

Noctis lets in a hiss of breath. “I’m gonna burn off his goatee. Can’t he keep his mouth shut?”

“I’d be mad if that goatee wasn’t so stupid,” says Cor, drumming his fingertips on the table. “Listen, Noctis. I’m mad, yes, but not as much as you think I am. You have allies in places you don’t know.”

“Is Jared Hester one of them?” Noctis has been wondering about it for a while. There’s a reason why he knows a lot about royal artifacts, but their tied family histories suggest more than a hobby with weaponry. There’s loyalty to the crown, forged over the centuries with each fall of the blacksmith’s hammer. 

“Yes, in a way. He was warned ahead of time that you would be present on the case.”

“How was he warned?” Noctis furrows his brows. “Is there someone working at the LBI with us?” 

That makes sense. Cor has used his position for their group’s benefit. There must be others in higher offices, working alongside them.

“There is, but you had better not go looking for them.” Cor’s voice holds a threat. “It’s better you’re not reaching out to other allies during your cases. It’s bad enough you called me, and it turns out you’ve dragged Prompto into your messes. _That_ had better not happen again.”

“Why are you so protective of Prompto? Why’s he your favorite?”

“Stop acting like a sulky brat, and start looking at your own actions and their consequences for once. I don’t want you in any messes, either, but don’t drag anyone else in with you. That includes Cindy, too.”

“Even Prompto knows he’s your favorite. You got him a new camera, but you never buy me anything like that.”

Cor sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. “Noctis. I’m not getting involved in whatever bickering goes on between the two of you about your childhood. I’m not the sort of man to usually say this, but I love you both.”

 _That_ makes Noctis feel grumpy, and it shouldn’t. He’s feeling antagonistic. How dare Cor be nice instead? 

“Ignis wouldn’t even yell at me about going in after Talcott, and now you’re not either. The only one who did was _Clarus_.” 

“Do you want me to yell?” Cor sounds all too happy to step up to the role.

“No,” says Noctis quickly, straightening up.

“The way I see it, you helped an ally get his grandson back. But this is about Ignis, not what you did, isn’t it? Is that what Prompto meant, when he said you wanted Ignis to be the one to knock you down a few pegs? And you’re taking it out on me?”

Noctis hums. “Maybe.”

“Brat.” Cor rolls his eyes and turns away. “I wish I hadn’t been so soft on you. That’s why you think you can get away with everything around me now. Antagonize me all you want, I’ll just leave.”

That’s the worst threat he could possibly ever give Noctis, because it’s one he knows Cor will go through with. 

“No, don’t. Stay. We miss you.” All true words. Everyone is his family, in a way that isn’t related to their criminal history. “Cook for us?”

Cor rubs at his face. “What do you want to eat?”

Noctis grins. Deep down, beneath all the gruff demeanor and the claims of physical punishment, Cor’s nothing more than an indulgent guardian with a heart of gold. And that’s why Noctis knows he can always rely on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Months ago, pinknoonicorn mentioned Mozzie—the characters in White Collar whose role I’ve assigned to Prompto—has a goatee in a flashback. I thought it’d be fun to add that to one of the chapters. (We agree he shouldn’t be bald, though!)


	25. Chapter 25

Noctis is nearly finished with a painting—a personal one, portraying the gargoyles stationed around his apartment balcony—when the door knocks. Each rap is firm but not aggressive, meaning it isn’t Cid or Cindy. It can’t be Prompto, since he always lets himself in.

Ignis, then?

Not that it matters. Noctis has nothing illegal to sweep off the table, and nothing on his canvas is a forgery waiting to be switched out with the real art. 

“Come on in,” says Noctis, scooping up his brushes. “Door’s unlocked.”

His guess was right. Ignis steps into the apartment, a bottle of wine in hand. From the look of the label, it’s from a vineyard out in Old Lestallum. Which means it’s expensive. 

As Noctis runs his brushes under a blast of lukewarm water in the sink, he nods his head at the bottle. “What’s the occasion?” His attempt to sound nonchalant ends up making him seem more suspicious of the wine than curious.

“I want you to tell me about your past, and I’m giving you full immunity—so long as you haven’t murdered anyone or some other heinous crime against a person’s physical safety—until sunrise.”

The shock of these words makes Noctis drop a couple of his brushes, and he has to rush to scoop one up before it tips its way down the drain. 

“Full immunity?” he stammers. “All night?”

“It’s only seven. You can start now and have plenty of time to tell me all about your past and your relationship with Cor and Prompto. And I won’t hold what I find out against them unless they’ve murdered or physically harmed someone. Same conditions for immunity as yours.” Ignis makes a pleased noise. “I think that sounds like a reasonable deal, don’t you?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Noctis flicks the water out of his brushes and sets them out on a paper towel to dry on the countertop. Turning to Ignis, arms crossed over his chest, he leans against the cabinets. “Is this because you figured out Cor knows me?”

“You made it obvious during our last case.” 

Noctis lets out a knowing groan. “He wasn’t trying to hide it, or I’d be in trouble.”

Ignis makes himself at home by retrieving two wine glasses from the cabinet and seating himself at the table. “You can get cleaned up while I pour the wine.”

“Sure…” Noctis glances down at the multiple blotches of paint on his large black tee. They decorate his arms as well. 

“It’s a nice painting. I prefer it when you work on originals.”

Noctis follows Ignis’ gaze to the painting. It isn’t quite finished, but maybe he’ll add the finishing touches of shadow and light on the gargoyles another night. 

“Thanks, I guess?” 

Ignis lets out a short laugh and uncorks the wine. Before he even pours, Noctis has disappeared into the bathroom. It takes several minutes to scrub his hands and arms of all the paint, leaving them raw and red. He pulls out his tiny ponytail, too, and runs his fingertips through the waviness the band created. Since working at the LBI, he hasn’t cut it, and part of him likes the way it looks when some of it is held back but his bangs are still too short and fall into his face. 

Noctis discards his tee and leaves it at the side of the sink. Across the small hall is his closet, and he fishes out a fresh black shirt from one of the drawers. Once he’s content—even though there is still splatter on his jeans—he returns to the main room. 

“I’ve ordered takeout,” says Ignis. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I’m starved. Didn’t think to eat while I was painting.” Noctis lowers into the seat across from Ignis. “What’d you order?”

“Since we had pizza at my house the other day, I thought we might have barbeque today.” 

“Mm, sounds good.”

“Now. Onto my questions.”

Noctis raises a suspicious eyebrow. “Do I really have immunity? What about the people involved? You’re not going to arrest anyone over what you hear today?”

“This is between the two of us,” says Ignis. After a beat, he adds, “This is for my own personal interest. I want to know more about you, Noct.”

 _Noct_. That’s new, even more surprising and delightful than the upgrade to Noctis. They way Ignis says it makes Noctis feel giddy.

“It’s a long story.” 

“I ordered a lot of food, and we can always raid your fridge for more to drink.” Ignis slides one of the wine glasses across the table.

“I’m not much of a wine drinker,” admits Noctis. “In fact, I’m not much of a drinker. I’ve only ever done it because I was trained to recognize certain tastes.” 

“Trained?” 

Noctis grabs a soda from the fridge before returning to his seat. “When my dad disappeared, Cor took me to Altissia to live with Weskham. My legal name was changed, and I was trained in everything.” Noctis ticks them off his fingers. “How to pick locks, detect certain tastes, I had all sorts of physical training…”

“Did Weskham raise you?”

“Yeah, it was mainly him, at first, but Cor often looked out for us, too,” says Noctis. “I think Cor had Prompto for a few months before he brought him to Altissia, though. I don’t know the details.”

“Where does Prompto fit into all of this?” 

Noctis shrugs. “Cor says he found him? But I don’t think so. The one time I tried to ask about it, Cor silenced me pretty fast. Later, he took me aside and explained that Prompto had been through some pretty terrible stuff and asked me not to ever bring it up to him. It seemed pretty serious.”

“How old was Prompto when Cor took him in? Do you know?”

Noctis pauses to take a drink, calculating in his head. “Well, Cor introduced us when we were like ten? Eleven? So maybe a little before then. I’m not sure about his background. I know he was an orphan from infancy. Probably had a bad history with foster homes. Cor relates to that—he went through the same before my grandfather took him in when he was thirteen.”

“Your grandfather took in Cor?”

“Yeah, good old Prince Mors—though he could’ve been considered King at that time, since his father died in the coup.”

Ignis nods. “Yes, but how did the children escape?”

“Someone from the castle got my grandfather and his sister out of the castle. They fled to a secret location.” Noctis won’t share every detail, immunity or not—Cape Caem is one of his bases, and revealing that to Ignis might devastate any of his future plans. “My grandfather managed to survive, but everyone knows what happened to the princess.”

“A tragedy,” admits Ignis.

“I know about as much as you do. My father told me bits and pieces about it, but I don’t think our family likes to talk about it much. Anything regarding the overthrown monarchy…”

“Niflheim sowed the seeds of dissent in Lucis, did they not? What if there are groups from Niflheim after your father?”

“Maybe.”

Persuading information out of Cor, Weskham, or anyone else has always been so difficult that Noctis only has fragments to piece together. All the same, he has come to a similar conclusion. While the Lucians who raided the castle did not eventually win the war, it’s a well-known fact that Niflheim was behind the propaganda that turned unhappy citizens into hostile ones.

“I can’t deny my family might’ve deserved it,” says Noctis softly. “I’ve heard the reports. You had all these people living so well in Keycatrich and parts of Insomnia, but the rest of Lucis was poor and overtaxed. That’s why it was so easy for Niflheim—a country who knew all too well what poverty felt like—to get people against the monarchy. Can’t say I’m even a fan, I just want my dad back.”

Noctis swipes at the tears in his eyes, embarrassed to be crying in front of Ignis. 

“We didn’t want to have to hide anymore. It would’ve been nice to be more like Accordo, where the monarchy still exists but they’re more public figures than politicians.”

“There are problems with that as well,” says Ignis, smiling warmly. “Not that I don’t understand why you’d rather have a less violent history. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I grew up in a normal household, and I don’t want to think about my parents being forced into hiding for any reason.”

Noctis nods. “What are your parents like?”

“I promise to tell you more about them when it doesn’t cut into your story. Remember, you only have until sunrise before your immunity runs out.”

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door. Seconds later—before Noctis can grant entry—Cindy swings it open with a cardboard box full of food cartons. With a bounce of her hip against the door, it closes behind her. 

“You boys sure did order a lot of food!” She saunters over to the table and sets it down on a bare spot. “Don’t mind if I take a rib or two, do you?”

“You can have more than that,” says Ignis, reaching into the box to sift through the contents. He finds a couple of trays and passes them over to Cindy. “I ordered enough to share. I thought it might be rude to order food without considering you and your grandfather. I didn’t know if Prompto would be around, either, but it seems he’s not.”

“Well, I’ll be!” Cindy beams and nudges Ignis’ shoulder with her elbow. “You might just get in Paw-Paw’s good graces yet!”

“That’s not his plan,” says Noctis, noting the worried expression that crosses Ignis’ face. “And if Cid thinks this is a trick to make him like Ignis, he’ll hate him even more.”

“I’ll just say I swiped ‘em then.” Cindy winks down at Ignis, who smiles appreciatively. “Sure are a sweetheart, ain’tcha?”

“Enjoy the food,” says Ignis, nodding at her.

“You, too!” 

Cindy sweeps out of the apartment within seconds, and the smell of ribs and other meats has Noctis diving for the remaining trays. He peels back the aluminum on each one, revealing side dishes, ribs, wings, brisket, and rolls. There is enough food to have a party. 

“Inviting others?” asks Noctis.

“You’ll have plenty of leftovers for this dismal bachelor pad,” says Ignis, standing. As he retrieves two plates and a series of utensils from the cupboards, Noctis snatches up a rib and bites down.

“That’s good,” says Noctis through a mouthful of meat. “I can live on this for the rest of the week. Thanks, Iggy.” If Ignis can shorten his name, he will return the favor. In fact, he rather likes the sound of the new nickname enough that he might use it more often. “I might just spill the beans now. Just not these ones.”

Noctis wriggles a cup of baked beans.

“Yes, please try not to make too much of a mess…” Ignis sets down their plates and begins dishing up his food like a proper gentleman. There was a time when Weskham used to have Noctis set down all his forks and spoons at the table, making him sit up and cut his food properly. In his memory, a database of each type of knife is stored, too. Not just the ones used for eating. It’s easy to think about, now that Ignis has roused all of Noctis’ memories.

“I don’t eat beans,” says Noctis, sliding the container across the table at Ignis.

“Really? Not even these? They have bacon in them.”

“Nope. I won’t touch the vegetables either.” Noctis scrunches up his face. “Weskham used to make me sit at the table until I ate a few bites. One time, Cor pinched my nose, shoved a forkful of roasted carrot in my mouth, and thought I’d chew.”

“Did you?”

“Nope. Spit them back out on his shirt. And then ran like hell.” Noctis leans back in his chair, laughing. “At the time, I thought if he caught me, he’d skin me alive and turn me into a rug. Turns out, he’s all talk. When I smoked on the rooftop of the bureau, I thought that might be the exception.”

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you had actually smoked up there. I thought perhaps you lit the cigarette and left it burning to keep up your ruse.”

“I did. I had a coughing fit with one drag.”

“That wasn’t wise of you. I daresay you shouldn’t try it again.”

“Hmm, want to make sure I don’t?” 

“And how would I do that?” Ignis stares at him with a mystified expression.

Noctis almost lets it slip. Almost blurts out something distinctly sexual before he backpedals and shoves another bite of rib down his throat. With a shrug, he says, “Anyway, I learned a lot from those two. It was about survival.”

“Did you learn how to steal from them, too?”

“Well.” Noctis pulls a face. 

“I won’t go after them. Immunity extends to them as well tonight. Besides, I don’t know who Weskham is, and Cor’s seniority as a marshal far outstrips me taking your word to the authorities.” 

“You’re not going to look into them?”

“I’m not here to look for reasons to arrest you and the people around you, Noct. I’m here…” Ignis hesitates. “I’m here because I’m interested in you—in your life. Why you grew up to be the kind of person you are. The public has this idea that all criminals are just that, down to the marrow, but the truth is that while we arrest some dastardly men like Mandar and Ulldor, many of you are all just people who wound up on the wrong path.”

“Isn’t that the way it goes sometimes?” Noctis shrugs and snatches up a wing. After he gnaws all the meat from the bones, he takes a sip of soda. “I can really keep all this food?”

“Yes, you’ll actually have something in your fridge for once. I can’t say I like this living arrangement of yours.”

“Suits me just fine as long as Cid’s not on my case.” Not that that happens too often. Cid mostly leaves Noctis to his own devices. “What about you? You don’t have anyone to protect you when people like Ulldor come after you.”

“Luna’s a sharp shoot, if you can believe it.”

“Pryna and Umbra are useless?”

Ignis laughs. “I’m afraid so. They might go after an intruder, but they’re mostly harmless. Luna’s socialized them since they were puppies to train out any potential aggression.”

“I guess I’ll have to rely on Luna to look out for you.” Noctis studies Ignis’ healing wounds. The stitches came out a few days ago, and Ignis must be off his painkillers if he’s drinking. 

“Don’t worry, I’m in good hands and paws.” 

Noctis smiles.

“Anyway, enough about me.” Ignis wags a rib at Noctis. “Continue on with your backstory. Tell me about your childhood.”

Would Noctis’ immunity include confessions? He wonders that a minute before he dismisses it and chatters on about memories of his father. Conmen aren’t supposed to fall in love with agents, anyway. It’s a bad mix, no matter how many times Ignis might fill his fridge with barbeque or keep him out of prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an episode like this in White Collar, and I had it planned from the beginning that I'd do this for Ignis and Noctis in this fic. :')
> 
> Side note, but damn, I REALLY love writing Cindy.


	26. Chapter 26

Noctis waits until he knows he can catch Luna home alone. It helps that Ignis often shares information about his evening errands with Noctis during the boring stretches of their job. As luck would have it, he’s being sent to the store for dog food by order of Crowe; another adoption fair is taking place, and Crowe and Ignis know just how to prevent the dog lover from sweeping all the canines up into her arms and bringing them home.

It’s dark enough in the evening that Noctis can see the lights on inside the brownstone. He follows the flower-lined sidewalk up to the several steps that lead to the front door. 

Luna draws the curtain on the door aside before unlocking and allowing him in.

“Ignis isn’t here, but you knew that,” she says matter-of-factly, one of her hands on her hips as she steps aside to allow him in.

Pryna and Umbra rush over to greet him. Noctis takes a few steps inside and kneels down to scratch their ears and coo praise at both of them.

“I’m sure you didn’t come to see my dogs, either. Anything I can help you with?” Luna latches the lock and leads him through the living room and to the kitchen table. Materials for making pressed-flower bookmarks are scattered across the surface. Luna takes a seat and gestures to the chair across from her.

“How many enemies does Ignis have? Other than Ulldor?”

“I’m sure he has quite a few,” says Luna. “He doesn’t tell me about all of them. Perhaps he knows I would worry.” She tilts her head at him, one side of her lips drawn up in the trace of a smile. “Noctis, what is this really about? I don’t suppose it has anything to do with why you brought the tie over or your feelings for Ignis?”

Noctis feels the blush spread across his cheekbones like an itchy rash. He rubs at the sensation, eyes cast at the various pressed petals ready to be laminated before him.

“Has he figured it out, too?”

“I think he might suspect something now. He won’t talk to me about it. Calls me a meddling matchmaker. That’s more of a joke—I once helped plan a wedding where my brother was his plus-one.”

“You mean Ravus?” Noctis doesn’t disguise his surprise and disgust. “Why would you do that?”

“I promise it was all for case! Ravus _does_ have feelings, but Ignis doesn’t reciprocate.”

“What about me? Do you think he might…”

“Hmm. It’s hard to tell.” There’s a playful hint that betrays her otherwise serious tone. “If you must know, he denies it. Even if he didn’t deny it, it isn’t exactly professional for him to date you, is it?”

“It’s not exactly against LBI rules, though. I checked.” 

“They’ll still assign you to another handler if they ever find out.”

Noctis doesn’t want that. Is it even possible for him to work alongside another agent? Not just because of his feelings, but for less angelic of reasons. Ignis allows him a lot of freedom. Another handler might mean someone stricter. Besides, Ignis is the best LBI agent working for the bureau! His team has solved more cases than others. With Noctis involved, that number has only increased.

“We make a good pair at work. I don’t want to change that.”

“I know.” Luna stands and gestures behind her at the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”

“Not a tea fan,” says Noctis. “Hot chocolate?”

“Ignis isn’t here to make it.” 

“He’ll be home shortly. It doesn’t take long to pick up dog food.” When he sees her surprised expression, he laughs. “He told me earlier today. I know all about his deal with Crowe.”

She huffs. “There’s room enough for more dogs in our lives—and hearts.”

“I think you’re a little fonder of them than Ignis. He’s more of a cat person, isn’t he?” 

“How’d you guess?” Luna sets the kettle on the stove. Near the front door, they hear the jingle of keys and the rattle of the handle. “That must be him now. I suppose you can have your hot chocolate, if you wish.” 

Noctis hops to his feet, ready to help Ignis carry in the dog food. It’s easy to shift it out of Ignis’ hands with the agent still holding his briefcase and keys. The dogs gather around them excitedly, sniffing at the bag. 

“Oh, you’ve already been fed,” says Ignis, lightheartedly flapping his hands at them to shoo them away. “Luna, why don’t you get them a treat?”

“Of course.”

Ignis turns to Noctis. “Why are you here?”

“Chatting with Luna.”

“Doesn’t he practically live here already?” calls out Luna as she reaches for one of the cupboards and produces a little jar with strips of jerky-like treats inside. The dogs run, and Ignis leads Noctis to the pantry, where they tuck the bag on one of the shelves.

“I came for some hot chocolate.” Noctis grins. 

“Fine. You may stay for hot chocolate.”

“If you feed me, I might stick around.”

“Are you a puppy?”

“You won’t let me bring home another dog, so we’ll have to settle for Noctis.” Luna slips her arms around Noctis’ middle and buries her head against his chest. “He smells nice, too.”

“I daresay much nicer than a dog, yes, but they don’t have sticky fingers.”

“Have you forgotten that time Pryna stole your dinner?” Luna squeezes Noctis a little with her arms. “Oh, please, Ignis, let him stay? It would be much easier to keep an eye on him!”

“I like this idea,” admits Noctis. 

Ignis narrows his eyes at both of them. Luna slips away from Noctis, straightening up like a child under the stern gaze of a parent.

“You could keep a better eye on me,” says Noctis. “In case I slip up. You’ll see my every move, making it hard to hide anything from you. And I’d have to try even harder to do anything behind your back.”

Does Noctis want to be with Ignis so badly that he would sacrifice his apartment and its privacy to live with him? No, he doesn’t have to do that. He can keep the loft as a back-up. It isn’t as if Cid will rent it to anyone else; Noctis has been living there for free, despite supposed rent agreements. Maybe for a little cash, Cid won’t mind allowing Noctis to use it as an art studio.

“What if you bring illegal activities into my house? What if you bring Prompto over?”

“Prompto?” asks Luna. “Is that the friend of Noctis’ you told me about?”

“Yes, and he’s awesome,” says Noctis quickly, and he realizes that at some point, Prompto and Luna should meet; those two would forge an excellent friendship together. That’ll make it hard for Ignis to shoo Prompto out the door if he visits. “I wouldn’t do anything illegal here, Ignis. I’d never do that to you.” And he means it.

“Oh, please, Ignis?” Luna clasps her hands together. “Let him live with us?”

Ignis gives her a look that could wilt flowers, but she merely widens her smile. Is this what she meant earlier, about him treating her like a meddling matchmaker?

“I’ll consider it,” says Ignis.

Noctis grins, and Luna screams and tosses her arms around Noctis’ shoulders. It’s the best they’ll get out of Ignis, who will likely spend all night considering it. Do they even have a chance at convincing him to approve? With Luna on board, it’s possible. 

That’s what Noctis had planned all along. Cozy up to Luna, plant the idea, and hope she gardened it. And like someone who loves flowers, she certainly stepped up to her role. 

~*~

The answer comes the next day, as Ignis is driving them to review a will that has allegedly been forged. Noctis is needed for his expertise eyes. Years under Weskham’s training has taught him how to tell subtle differences in handwriting. More than likely, it’s just a dispute between three siblings who don’t care for how their mother split her estate, but they’re meeting with the family lawyers to see this supposed forgery in person. 

Ignis takes a short drink of Ebony, and as he’s returning it to the cup holder, he says, “You can stay with us if you wish.”

Noctis starts to cheer, but Ignis—without taking his eyes off the road—holds up a single warning finger in his direction.

“Before you celebrate, I have some rules.”

Noctis makes a face. “Oh, rules. Let’s hear ‘em then.”

“I know Cid hasn’t set a curfew for you, and I won’t either, but if you do anything I feel jeopardizes your progress as a recovering criminal, I’ll set one.”

“Recovering criminal? You make it sound like I’m an addict.” The adrenaline rush Noctis feels when he’s in the act of stealing art, that taste of excitement as he dances in the moments of a heist and risks being caught—all of that is a high. But he doesn’t have to tell Ignis that.

Not when it’s clear Ignis already knows.

“If you involve Luna in any of your crimes, I’ll terminate our partnership and send you back to prison.”

The harshness is necessary. Noctis gets that, but it doesn’t stop it from burning a little. 

“Luna has all the makings of a good grifter,” teases Noctis. This isn’t the best approach to lighten the mood, but he makes the joke anyway. “Shouldn’t you be warning her not to hook me into helping her bring in a third dog?”

“It’s too late. She gets to keep you.”

“Ouch. I’m the third dog?”

That gets a laugh out of Ignis. “Yes, but I might allow _you_ up on the furniture.”

“When you’re not looking, I’ll be curled up on it with Pryna and Umbra on the couch anyway. I dare you to stop me.”

“Don’t let me catch you.”

It’s at the tip of Noctis’ tongue to suggest what Ignis should do to him if he’s caught, but the sexual innuendo dies in his throat as he opens his mouth. Instead, he awkwardly shuts it and scratches his cheek. 

“Thanks, Iggy. For letting me stay and helping me through this.”

Ignis doesn’t answer, but when Noctis glances over, he catches the hints of a blush across the agent’s cheekbones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mozzie and El become close friends, so it's only fair that Prompto and Luna become friends? Which is what I've always wanted, so this works out perfectly. 
> 
> I'm excited about this part of the story. I actually wrote a part I'm really proud of last night. There are parts of this story chapters from now that I wrote _last year_ , because sometimes I write scenes out and then edit them in later? Or omit them. I just don't want to forget the words by the time I reach said chapters... As a result, there's a lot written already, and I'm excited to share it with anyone who is still reading this. (Thank you, if you are, I really appreciate it. I'm so glad to be back to writing this one. It's self-indulgent but oh well. xD)


	27. Chapter 27

Noctis often walks to work, passing by countless newspaper and magazine stands on his way without ever glancing at most of them. But this morning, his attention is immediately drawn to the front cover of Meteor. He stops abruptly in front of the display. A couple of passersby curse at him as they move around, but he doesn’t pay them any mind.

There’s a picture of the royal family on this month’s issue of Meteor. Prince Mors—as a young boy—stands proper next to his parents, his baby sister seated upon their father’s lap. Even though there are plenty of photographs of the family, this is a portrait painted some seventy-something years ago that often circulates more than anything else. None of the people in the picture had any idea of what was to come. 

The headline reads: “Is the royal family alive?” 

Noctis snatches up a copy and buys it. Ducking into a nearby coffeeshop, he orders an apple cider and seats himself in an isolated corner to drink and read.

People have speculated the whereabouts of Mors for decades, wondering if he ever had any descendants. Blood tests confirmed the identity of Princess Julia in Altissia, but the prince was never found. Some of the royal retainers were never accounted for, either. Weskham’s father was one of them. It’s not a stretch for people to be captivated by this subject—it’s no different than the fascination behind serial killers who’ve evaded arrest. The mystery draws in the public, and no matter if it’s been five years or fifty, they don’t easily forget about it.

There are entire museum exhibits dedicated to the disappearance of Mors and the murder of Julia. “Experts” have weighed in their opinions, too. Most of them are wrong. They get bits aired on one of the less popular history channels. A few of them write books. _Most_ of them are kooks in tweed suits. On the less professional-appearing side, tabloids offer theories like alien abduction and vampirism on why the children disappeared the night of the raid. Those claims are often so wild, Noctis reads them out loud to Cor for fun, just to see his frustration mount. (Noctis can’t help it. Cor really needs to grow a bit of an imagination.)

What catches Noctis’ eye in this case is the publication. Meteor is known for sticking their necks out for the truth. Dino left for the Galdin Times for many reasons; one had to do with the safety of writing less about the government and more about luxury massages and expensive dining. It may have cut off his source for rumors that helped him plan his next jewel heist, but at least it got officials to stop trailing him for other reasons. 

The magazine doesn’t _always_ filter out some of the conspiracy theories that circulate, though. Sometimes they do it to disclaim them or because they want to see the public weigh in with their opinion.

Just in case, Noctis wants to make sure this article is merely another slip in Meteor’s integrity. 

He texts Ignis to tell him he’s been delayed, not offering an excuse as to why. It might require lying. Moments like this make him wonder if it’s such a good idea that he’s started packing to move in with Ignis and Luna. If he lives there, he’ll travel to work with Ignis every day. There won’t be any side trips or ways to sneak around. 

Not that Ignis can’t check his tracking anklet if he’s that concerned about Noctis’ whereabouts. In fact, Noctis is sure he does that all the time. Less so than he used to when they first paired up at the LBI, but there’s not enough trust forged between them yet for Ignis to stop entirely.

Noctis shuts off his phone and begins reading. The article begins with pointing out a few important facts, like which bodies were found during the massacre and whose were never recovered. By the end of the first paragraph, however, it announces quite blatantly: Did Mors ever have children? Where are they today?

It seems like it’ll spin into speculation, but it doesn’t. Meteor offers a rather spot-on theory: the royals are alive and stealing Citadel artifacts in an attempt to regain some of their previous glory. They’ve got loyal members everywhere, those who never rebelled against the crown. 

No names are mentioned, but Noctis immediately thinks of how many people are in his life because they were raised in families that served his for generations. 

Noctis glances at the writer of the article, but he doesn’t recognize the reporter’s name. Pelna Khara. There are only two people he knows of who have worked or still work at Meteor. One is Dino. The other is Vyv Dorden, but everyone is familiar with him. Noctis spotted him around Lestallum sometimes, during one of his brief stays in the city. 

It’s time to head back out that way for a short little trip.

Noctis sends a text to Prompto, asking if he can obtain a car and bring along his tool kit. Asking Cid would be ill-advised; Cid hasn’t allowed Noctis near a car since he commandeered the Regalia as a teen. There’s no way Cor would allow Noctis off his radius. Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to pull a few strings with Cindy…

He makes sure to send that suggestion to Prompto. They should both be at Cid’s today—it’s one of Cindy’s rare mornings off, and Prompto likes to hang around the manor to chat shop with her. 

Noctis notices Ignis has left him a string of texts and voice messages every few minutes, demanding answers for his absence. One even demands to know why he’s at a coffee shop. Damn, the radius usually says what streets Noctis can be located on, but Ignis must have a good idea of the layout of Insomnia if he knows exactly what establishment Noctis has visited. 

Prompto replies a few minutes later as Noctis orders him a hot chocolate to-go. _Cindy’s got a car you can borrow, why do you need it?_

 _You’ll know when you see the new Meteor article out today._ That’s all Noctis is willing to share. _Meet you back at the house._

Noctis hurries along the street with his hot chocolate in hand, hoping to beat Ignis there if the agent comes knocking. The morning traffic is always a little thicker in this area by the time they’ve reached work, as other people hurry to their office jobs. As a result, being on foot is to Noctis’ advantage. There’s almost no one on the streets near the manor when Noctis arrives, and Ignis’ car isn’t parked anywhere in sight. With any luck, he’s bottlenecked somewhere deeper downtown.

Prompto and Cindy are waiting outside the garage. A set of keys dangles from Cindy’s fingers as she leans up against what Noctis assumes will be his new ride. It’s a sleek, newer model of a Lucian Cruiser. Those cost a pretty penny, but not as much as many of the classic models the family has tucked within their collection. 

“She’s all filled up,” says Cindy, tossing the keys at Noctis.

“Thanks. Got any cash for the road?” The last thing Noctis wants to do is use his credit card, which he saves for the most innocent of purchases. It helps him keep up the façade of good behavior with the LBI, as they often track his finances carefully. 

“Yeah,” says Prompto, who pulls out a wad and hands it over. “What’s this about a Meteor news article?”

Noctis takes the magazine out from under his arm and thrusts it under Prompto’s nose. After a second, his friend’s eyes widen before two sets of fingers clamp around both edges and snatch it away.

“What? How?!” 

“That’s what I’m gonna find out,” says Noctis. “I’ll have a nice chat with Vyv Dorden and this reporter, and see what they know.”

Prompto skims the article. “I want to come, too!” 

“Not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“I know Vyv through Dino. C’mon, let me join you, please? Roadtrip! Roadtrip!”

“Aw, let him come, Noctis!” chimes in Cindy. “Sounds like he could get you into the Meteor office!”

“Fine. But we gotta hurry. Ignis knows something’s up. Did you bring your tool kit?” Noctis hikes up his pant leg to reveal his tracking device. “I need you to cut my anklet.”

“No problem!” Prompto dives into the breast pocket of his torn-up vest and produces a pouch of tools. With Noct’s foot propped high on a flower bed, Prompto gets to work unscrewing the device until it’s nothing more than a couple of fragments of medal sleeping among the long-dead marigolds and the frost that covers them.

“Cindy, you’d better get out of here,” advices Noctis. “When Ignis comes around, tell him I stole the car. I don’t want you to get in trouble for helping us.”

“Will do!” Cindy waves at them before ducking through the backyard to the house. 

“Let’s go,” says Noctis, unlocking the car. “No time to lose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops?


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update?

Traffic works against Ignis. It’s at a standstill only a few blocks away from Cid’s manor. Just when it starts to pick up and he’s able to inch forward a little, an alert pops up on his phone.

Noctis has cut his anklet.

“What is going on?” Ignis sets his phone in a cupholder and focuses on the road as cars begin to move forward again. 

He thought Noctis was doing better. Noctis seemed like he was excited to move in, too—which he should be, for all the plotting it took to accomplish it. Even if Noctis has been unethical in how he solves cases, and his stunt to go in for Talcott could have gotten him hurt, everything Noctis has done is for the LBI. Not against it. Yes, it’s a slow process that takes a lot of earning trust in each other, but they were getting there. 

Noctis has severed all that away in one morning. There can only be one cause for that. 

It has to do with his father.

Ignis finally reaches the manor and rings the doorbell. A few minutes later, Cindy answers, feigning surprise.

“Where is he?” asks Ignis. “He cut his anklet here. And from your expression, you were expecting me.”

“He stole one of the cars,” says Cindy, and he can’t prove it’s a lie. “We’re not in the habit of reporting our own.” 

“What’s going on?” snaps a voice behind Cindy. A few seconds later, Cid squeezes in next to Cindy in the doorway. “Something wrong with Noctis?”

“He took off with our Lucian Cruiser, Paw-Paw.”

“He did what?” The only thing Cid’s anger attempts to disguise is his disappointment, which suggests he knew nothing about the car or Noctis running. “Damn boy, what’d he do that for?”

“Don’t know,” says Cindy. She’s not a good liar, and both men are aware of this immediately.

Cid narrows his eyes at her. “You know somethin’?”

Cindy sighs. “It’s about that Meteor article that came out this morning. Here, I’ll fetch the copy Noctis brought over—Prompto left it next to the flowerbed earlier.” 

“Is Prompto here?” asks Ignis.

“Nah, he took off with Noctis. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have aided him, but once you see this article, I think you’ll get the picture.”

Cindy leads Ignis and Cid to the back of the house and retrieves the magazine from the kitchen counter. 

Ignis takes it from her and reads the cover with Cid glancing over his shoulder.

Under his breath, Cid swears. 

The article outlines some wild speculations, but they’re horribly accurate to what Ignis knows about Noctis and the people surrounding him. As soon as Ignis has finished reading it, he passes it over to Cid.

“Shit like this pops up all the time,” says Cid, but as he reads on, he visibly pales. 

“It’s not wrong, is it?” asks Ignis softly. “This is how we caught Noctis in the first place. His connection with the royal family made it easy for us to convince him our communication was actually his father. Few people know about it, but it’s not impossible to figure out with his patterns.”

“No one said anything about that during the trial.”

“For his protection. We have no idea how many enemies he has as a prince and didn’t want to put his life at risk by airing it to the courts and the public.”

Cid stares up at Ignis with a mixture of sadness and weariness. “You did him a favor, but it seems someone’s either leaked information or figured it out.”

“They didn’t name Noctis or mention the LBI,” says Ignis. “If someone knew it would harm Noctis and wanted to prevent that, they wouldn’t have published the article in the first place. If someone hoped to harm him, they would have made hints about one of the heirs working within the company. Instead, it says they’re working underground across Eos, in places like Lestallum.”

“A good tale brings in sales and tourism,” says Cindy. “Everyone loves a good mystery, especially around them royals.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time anyone’s tried to capitalize on the mystery,” says Ignis. “Remember that company that wanted to buy out all of Keycatrich and offer expensive tours of the ruins?”

“Yeah, all too well,” says Cid, snapping the magazine down on the countertop. “They wanted to have people camp out there, claiming you could spot ghosts in the night! War sounds good to people who’ve never had to live through it or the aftermaths. I may have been too young to remember the fighting, but I know what it did to people.”

The war seems like a distant part of the past, but Ignis is reminded by Cid’s words that there are people alive who still remember what happened. Most were children or teens at the time, too, but it’s a part of their memories.

Ignis turns to Cindy. “They’re headed to Lestallum?”

“That’s my guess. They didn’t actually tell me where they were going. Guess they know how bad of a liar I am and didn’t want to drag me into this.”

“They still did,” says Cid. Despite the gruffness of his voice, there’s a tenderness in his eyes. Noticing Ignis watching him, he turns to face him. “You going after ‘em?”

“I must. Noctis cut his anklet. He never had permission to go outside of his radius or take the device off. I’m not sure what the consequences will be. He could go back to jail.”

“He tells me he’s moving out, into your place, and now this. For someone so smart, his actions sure are dumb.”

Ignis isn’t sure which part Cid is referring to, but he suspects it’s a criticism for both.

“I have to get going, before he makes much headway.” Not that Ignis expects that he’ll catch up with Noctis until Lestallum. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He turns to Cindy. “I’ll say nothing of your involvement to the LBI, as a courtesy for your cooperation.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Ignis returns to his car and links his phone up to his car so he can contact Clarus while driving. His boss sounds as angry as anyone would suspect, but Ignis reassures him that he’ll find him and bring him back, even without any reinforcements. 

Ignis has to be the one to find him. If another agent goes after him, Noctis might not be easily swayed. Whatever they’ve become, at least Ignis has a connection with Noctis that could persuade him not to do anything stupid him.

If Ignis reaches him first.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve changed up Lestallum. I still wanted to capture the general feel of it, but I’ve “expanded” on the city limits and included more roads and alleyways.

Lestallum is a gritty place, filled with energy plants and not enough greenery to absorb even a fraction of the sun’s heat. Fortunately, it’s still winter, so it isn’t as hot as it could be. All the same, Noctis and Prompto can walk through the streets jacketless. The Lucian Cruiser is parked on a side street in no obvious spot where Ignis might find it. And Noctis has no doubt that Ignis will come looking. Not even an order from Clarus would stop him.

Lestallum is small compared to Insomnia, but they still have to walk several blocks from where they parked the cars, and Noctis is nervous about the time they’re wasting. The magazine is small and hasn’t been around for long, so its headquarters is nothing more than a small office that shares walls with other businesses. There isn’t even a security guard or secretary waiting for them when they step inside. Both Noctis and Prompto are able to cut a path through the desks to the back office. Fans are set up in every corner, but they do nothing more than pass around the stuffy, humid air inside. 

Vyv is on the phone when they walk in unannounced and close the door loudly behind them. Upon seeing them, Vyv nearly drops his phone into his coffee. 

“Hey, gotta go. Talk to you later.” Once Vyv finishes the call and the phone is resting in its cradle, he turns to Prompto. “You’re Dino’s old beau. Anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah, this.” Noctis taps his fingers on the latest edition sitting on Vyv’s desk. “I’d like to talk to this reporter, Pelna Khara? And do you know anything about this?”

“Everything I know is in that article. Pelna’s upstairs in the breakroom.” Vyv grabs up a folder and fans himself with it. “You’re not henchmen from some secret organization here to beat him up, are you? If you are, I’ll call the cops.”

Noctis turns to Prompto and takes in his skinny physique before he laughs. “Him? A henchman?”

“You’re just as scrawny as I am!”

“Hey, I’ve got muscle.” Noctis rubs at his arms, feeling the bicep beneath his dress shirt for reassurance.

“Listen, if you want to talk to him, you can go upstairs. Any sign of distress, and I’m calling the cops.” Despite seeming rather inept at confrontation, the threat sounds serious. The last thing Noctis needs is to deal with police, too. Even an hour in a Lestallum jail before Ignis or someone else from the LBI picks him up sounds excruciating.

“I’m with the LBI,” says Noctis, and he takes his fake credentials out of his pocket. Long ago, when he first started working at the bureau, he had Prompto make him a “badge” that looks exactly like any others. The only difference is his name—he’s using Ignis’. It’s a good thing Prompto hasn’t blurted his name yet, or this con wouldn’t work. 

“Agent Scientia. We were hoping your reporter might unknowingly hold information that can help us with cases related to stolen Citadel artifacts.”

“He doesn’t look like an agent.” Vyv points to Prompto, whose vest and its myriad buttons and patches make him look like he works with motorcycles.

“He’s my CI. He still hasn’t realized the dress code for the bureau.”

“Criminal informant, huh? I guess you were into the same stuff as Dino?”

“Not as deep, or he’d be in prison with Ghiranze,” says Noctis. “All right, let’s talk to Khara.”

They leave the office, Prompto keeping an eye on what’s going on behind them. After a minute, Noctis dares his own glance back. Vyv seems to have forgotten them and is back on the phone, leaning into his chair and flapping the folder frantically to cool himself off.

“Guess that worked,” whispers Prompto once they’re alone on the stairwell.

“Guess it did.”

At the top of the stairs is a door leading to a bathroom, another to a janitor’s closet, and then the hall opens up into one large break room. There’s only one man seated at the table, a carton of take-out in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other. At their arrival, he glances up.

“Pelna Khara?” asks Noctis. 

The guy nods. “That’s me. Anything I can help you with?”

Noctis gives Pelna the same bullshit as he fed Vyv and offers his badge. Pelna finishes swallowing a bit of food before shaking his head and waving away the badge.

“I’d love to help, but I’m afraid I’ve got nothing,” says Pelna. “That article is based on hours of research. If you’re with the LBI, you’d notice the same patterns I did. Not that you’d want the LBI to pick up on that, right, Noctis Caelum?”

The matter-of-fact way that Pelna says it catches Noctis off-guard. 

“Your face was in the papers during the Citadel ring theft. We published one. Do you really think waving a badge around Lucis is going to work every time?”

“Do you think Vyv recognized you?” whispers Prompto, leaning into Noctis.

“Vyv?” Pelna laughs, and he seems kind of nervous—not the type of guy who would typically be a reporter. Still, there’s something about him that’s sharp and perceptive. “He knows. We wouldn’t be good at our jobs if we couldn’t recognize the face of someone who has been in our papers a few times.”

Prompto aims a frustrated look at Noctis, no doubt channeling Cor. 

“Your interest and alarm in this article…” Pelna laughs again, shakes his head, and stabs at his food with his chopsticks without taking another bite. “No, that couldn’t be it.”

“Couldn’t be what?”

“You want to know what I know so you can find these Lucian artifacts they’ve stolen and keep them for yourself,” says Pelna, setting down his carton, and the phrasing seems suspiciously deliberate. “Listen, you’re thinking too much into this. I wrote down patterns and shared them with the public. Whatever wasn’t true, I stated as a potential theory, but I still labeled the facts. Our audience can speculate on what they want. But I don’t have any information aside from what I offered in my article.”

It would be wisest to fly with the excuse Pelna has given out—that Noctis isn’t part of this family of lost royals and their crime circle, bur rather competition seeking to beat them to the artifacts. It’s possible Pelna has already guessed that Noctis is part of this organization, either as a member or even as royalty. In fact, Noctis is sure that his sudden rush to Meteor headquarters is telling. How often have Cor and Weskham scolded Noctis for acting hastily?

When it has to do with his father, however, he simply can’t help it.

“I see,” says Noctis. “That’s disappointing to hear. I know where they might find some, if they’re looking to buy.”

“There are still those out that don’t think it’s fair what happened to the children, you know. If Mors did have any children and grandchildren, they shouldn’t have to live in the shadows.” The way Pelna words this makes Noctis certain he knows more than he’s letting on.

“Really?” Noctis is surprised to hear that; there are still plenty of criticisms one could make about their current government, but it’s still less horrible than living under a monarchy. When most people refer to the tragedy regarding the coup, they all think about Princess Julia’s life cut short by the murder in Altissia and the mystery that surrounds it. No one ever includes Mors. It’s as if his disappearance included forgetting he ever existed.

Certainly no one thought about any generations to follow after.

“Do you really want to sell the Citadel artifacts you allegedly stole?” 

Noctis waves his hand as if banishing all thoughts of crime. “I’m done with that life. Just wrapping up a few loose ends.”

“Are you?” asks Pelna. “Well, that’s nothing to me, if you are. Good on you, I guess.” He points to his meal. “Can I finish eating in peace now? ‘Cos I really don’t know anything else beyond what I put out in that article. If you want to find the royal family, you’ll have to do that yourself.”

“Yeah. Eat. Thanks for your time.” Noctis knows he sounds disappointed, but he had desperately hoped for some lead on his father or the criminals chasing after him. He might have found allies—people who at least don’t hold the sins of previous generations against their children. But if everyone involved with their organization could live outside the shadows, would the sins of their criminal activity truly allow them any freedom? 

Noctis hates that he knows the answer to that.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to share this chapter, because I enjoyed writing it a lot.

It’s hot as tar outside the Meteor headquarters, the air so thick with humidity that Ignis smothers in his suit. Even in the shadow of a building and it being the tail-end of winter cannot ease his suffering. For Lestallum, this is still an unseasonably warm day. Ignis is only glad it isn’t summer; he has no love for the heat. 

Noctis is inside the building. How Ignis knows, he’s not sure. Call it a gut feeling, especially when he’s already located their vehicle. Ignis has to rethink his approach. There are two ways in and out of the building—a fire exit stairwell from the second floor down to the alleyway, and the main entrance. Does he storm inside? Does he wait at the front entrance? Slip inside the back? Go back to where the two men hid the Lucian Cruiser and wait behind a dumpster until the boys return?

It doesn’t matter. Before Ignis can finish making a decision, the door swings open, and Prompto and Noctis step out together. The three notice each other instantly.

“Uh oh,” says Prompto, sounding nervous but certainly not concerned enough for someone who has aided Noctis in cutting his anklet and running.

Ignis points to Prompto. “Take the car back to Cid and Cindy before I decide to arrest you.” His finger passes over to Noctis. “You. With me. Now.”

Noctis nods, and his face is unreadable. There is no way to tell what he might be thinking. 

Ignis ought to put him in handcuffs. Ought to haul him by the arm back to the car and drag him to the nearest prison for processing. 

Ought to, but he won’t. Noctis’ fate will be up to Clarus now.

“What happened in there?” asks Ignis as he walks beside Noctis. He doesn’t sense that the other man has any intention of running, and it doesn’t feel right to roughly handle him at this moment. Even his voice is softer than he intended it to be. Something about this entire situation calls for a tenderer approach. “Cindy showed me the article, Noct. I know what it said and how close to the truth it came.”

“They didn’t know anything that could help me find my dad.” Noctis visibly deflates. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Noctis raises his gaze, and they lock eye contact for a moment. “I cut my anklet. I didn’t tell you what was going on. I ran to Lestallum.”

“Which are all poor choices, and you’ll pay for them in ways I might not be able to help, but what can I do for you _right now?_ ” 

Noctis turns his head away, but not before Ignis catches his eyes watering. “Nothing. It’s not like anyone is helping me find my dad.”

That stings with the truth. Ignis meant to help, but he has plenty of seemingly good excuses. They’ve had several major and minor cases that keep them busy at work and push them into overtime. It isn’t as if Ignis hasn’t done some seeking of his own. When Ignis ordered barbeque and offered Noctis immunity, he hoped to learn more so he could help.

But if he wants to be honest? He hasn’t done enough.

“I’m sorry, Noctis.”

“Not your fault. No one’s looking, even people who knew him.”

Ignis can’t imagine that Cor and the others have given up the search, but right now isn’t a good time to try to convince Noctis of that. Instead, they get in his car and make the long drive back to Insomnia. There’s no music, only silence to cover the defeat and anger they both feel—some of it directed at each other.

~*~

It’s nighttime when they reach Insomnia. Ignis parks in the garage for the bureau rather than dropping Noctis off and heading home. They’ll have to speak with Clarus first and have Noctis refitted with an anklet—if he’s not taken straight back to jail.

Noctis doesn’t open the door as soon as he’s out of his seatbelt, and Ignis doesn’t move, either.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” says Noctis.

No one is sorrier than Ignis, who thought that perhaps things would be different now that they were making preparations for Noctis to move in. Luna’s been helping Ignis clean out the guest bedroom of any storage to make room for Noctis’ belongings. 

“What about moving in, Noct?” asks Ignis softly. “Do you realize what you’ve done? I can’t protect you from the consequences of your actions every time you do something impulsive—especially not something this big.”

“Maybe you should reign me in.”

“Perhaps I should. I thought that’s what we were trying to do, with you moving in.” No, there’s more to it than that—something both of them are too afraid to let slip from their tongues. It’s that feeling nestled in their hearts that wants to make itself known with the joining of their lips and the feel of bare skin against bare skin. That’s the real reason they planned to live together. It has little to do with Noctis fearing men like Ulldor will come after Ignis, or that Ignis can teach Noctis more self-restraint with his criminal habits.

It’s just an excuse to spend more time together.

“Now you might go back to jail, Noctis,” says Ignis. It takes all of his strength to keep his voice steady. His fingers grip the steering wheel hard, his eyes boring into the cement wall of the parking garage until his vision blurs. “I can’t stop Clarus if that’s what he decides. Someone above him might make the decision.”

“I’m sorry,” whispers Noctis. 

Ignis knows, and he’s sorry, too. Sorry that he hasn’t searched harder for Regis and failed Noctis by not doing more to prevent these reckless actions that always seem to get Noctis into trouble.

“Stop it,” snaps Noctis. “What you’re thinking? Stop it.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You feel guilty, and you shouldn’t! This is all my fault, and you did nothing wrong. You…” Noctis lightly slams a fist against the interior of the door, just beneath the windshield, hissing. “You’ve only done everything you could to protect me. I fucked up. You get that, right? I fucked up! That’s not your fault.”

“I’m your handler,” says Ignis. The shock of the outburst makes it difficult for him to find the rest of a reply. Thoughts are tumbling in his head.

“Which means when I fuck up, it leaves a mark on your career.”

“I knew that when I took you on.”

“I knew, too, but I wanted this so badly I didn’t care at the time.”

“You care now. Noct, I’ve known what you want from the beginning. You used me—and my position at the LBI—for the resources to find your father. No one is under any illusion that you might have had more innocent intentions when you asked me to take you on as my informant. Don’t you think it’s progress that you care so much now?”

Ignis means every word. This is a step in the right direction, a part of the recovery process. It might take time, but Noctis is making steps towards betterment, and Ignis wants more than anything to help him along the way. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s foolishness. 

But Ignis doesn’t want Noctis to go back to prison and be ripped out of his life by anyone, and the scariest part of this entire ordeal has been knowing that Noctis’ actions have jeopardized their future. Not just as partners, but as people who have feelings for one another and want nothing more than to still be able to see each other every day. Even if that’s as far as it goes, because that’s _all they can have_.

“I’m sorry,” says Noctis, words choked by tears. “And yeah, I care a lot now. I just wish I’d come to you when I saw the article.”

That makes Ignis feel marginally better. He even manages a smile, though Noctis won’t look at him and doesn’t see it.

“If they let you stay as my CI, you’ll know to come to me the next time, won’t you? I’d like that. Very much.”

“If they let me.”

Neither of them speaks after that. The doors swing open on both sides at the same time, and they step out to make their way to Clarus’ office and their potentially impending doom with their fears hanging between them, spoken and paralyzing.


	31. Chapter 31

Noctis doesn’t like the look Clarus is giving him when he is guided into his office. There are no handcuffs slapped on his wrists, no threats of prison from the immediate. But the steely gaze that Clarus sets on him makes Noctis worry that whatever he has in store for him is worse. 

“Ignis, you can wait at your desk,” says Clarus sharply. “Thank you for retrieving Caelum.”

Ignis glances worriedly at Noctis. 

“I’ll be okay,” says Noctis. It’s only true in that he’s safe in Clarus’ hands. What happens to him after he leaves the bureau is another question altogether. 

When Ignis is gone, Clarus flips the lock and lowers the blinds. Complete privacy—or as much as an LBI office can allow. 

“We have to talk, Noctis.”

Clarus almost never uses his first name. Lots of agents don’t unless they’re on friendly terms, which most of them are. Aranea is Aranea, Nyx is Nyx, Gladiolus is Gladio. Criminals like Noctis are rarely integrated into the familiar atmosphere. Even in the cases where a criminal might share their name with a parent, it’s the last name followed by “junior” or “senior”. It doesn’t offer the same dignity that those titles usually do, either. 

“I know I fucked up,” admits Noctis. “Don’t punish Ignis for this.”

“You’re not a pair of small children I’m sending to separate time-out corners.” Clarus’ voice is a sharp snap. He paces in a half-moon pattern around his desk, and from the look of the carpet, it’s an old habit. “He brought you back, so I already know where his loyalty stands.” He pauses directly in front of his desk and slips a palm across his face, pulling the skin taunt over his cheekbones and then releasing it as his hand rests down on his chin. “I think maybe you should know where mine lie.”

The sentence takes a moment to process, but once it does, something Cor told Noctis clicks in his mind. 

“Cor said we had an ally. That’s you, isn’t it?” asks Noctis softly. “He said not to go looking for you, but here you are.”

Clarus turns to him. “Yes, well, now you know. Which is why I’m about to explain something that makes this difficult for all of us. There are only so many strings I can pull to help you from where I sit. I permitted Ignis to take you on as a CI, which didn’t please Cor much. He thought you’d be safer in prison, but I’m not so sure.”

“You really are on our side? If that’s the case, are you even looking for my dad? It doesn’t feel like any of you are!” Noctis can’t contain his fury. All this time, the resources at the LBI he hoped to obtain were already within reach through another person in their organization. 

“We’ve done everything we can to locate him, and if you have any regards for your well-being, you won’t raise your voice to me.” Clarus’ warning tone chills Noctis to his bones. “I live on the outside, using my position and my distance to help locate Regis, but he’s a good friend and we haven’t stopped looking.”

“Your children don’t know, do they?” Noctis lets out a short laugh. “Your son wouldn’t treat me like a criminal if he knew you’ve been on my side this entire time.”

“No, Gladio and Iris aren’t aware of their background. I wanted to keep them safe, and it was agreed upon that we would let future generations live normally. We had hoped the same for you, too, which is why you might remember some traces of that life with your father. Unfortunately, the past followed Regis too closely.”

“Do you know something about that?” demands Noctis, sitting up at the edge of his seat. “Will you tell me?”

“In time, if I can convince the others it’s in your best interest. They want to protect you, but they should know by now that with your name and face in the papers, the best place for you is here.” Clarus points to the worn carpet that indicates his office, the building, the entire LBI.

“Does that mean I’m not being sent back to prison?”

“No. I’ve been able to pull a few strings and convince them that your track record of helpfulness outweighs this first offense. If you do it again, I’m not sure I can do more for you.” Clarus glares at Noctis with trained anger. “You won’t break anklet again. If you have a problem, you’ll approach your elders, and we’ll discuss this like adults. You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got a load on our shoulders, but we distribute that weight as a family.”

Noctis doesn’t have an immediate response to this beyond a simple nod. He gets it, he does. But discussing his problems with Cor and Weskham—two people who always managed theirs on their own—sounds impossible. Clarus seems to be cut from a similar cloth. The only one who might be have exceptions is Cid, whose emotions and sentiment get the best of him at times, particularly in his old age. Those few slips don’t say much; he still keeps plenty of details locked up tight.

Even Prompto doesn’t blurt out all his problems. That’s why Noctis has never found out about his past or where he comes from, what kind of life he had before Cor took him in. 

“I’m sorry,” says Noctis, and for someone who seldom means his apologies, he sure seems to be genuine about his feelings of remorse lately. 

Clarus sighs. “How do I deal with this stunt of yours? Desk duty would punish Ignis and all the people who rely on this bureau. I could restrict your anklet to go off if you step fifty feet outside your house or this building, but I’ve been informed you’re moving into Ignis’ home, and I won’t force him to be burdened by your constant company where the only solace he can find is outside of his house.”

“I think he likes my company,” grumbles Noctis defensively.

“You’re lucky he does. He’s one of the reasons I’m able to keep you safe in this bureau, even if he’s not aware of his role.” Clarus sighs again. “I should call Cor and tell him to yell at you thoroughly.”

“You don’t have to go that far,” says Noctis quickly. “Who says we have to tell him?”

“If I don’t, Cid will eventually. I’d get Weskham on your case if he weren’t so damn far away.”

Weskham’s lectures are some of the worst Noctis has every experienced from anyone. Every question he asks expects an answer, with little to no wiggle room. Now that Noctis is an adult, there’s not much Weskham can do beyond scold him. There is no “or else” hanging over Noctis’ head that worries over extra chores or seized video games, but that memory remains, and its residual effects still put the fear of the gods in him.

“You kept in a contact with them behind the scenes,” says Noctis, tilting his head up at Clarus. “Did we know each other when I was a kid? You always seemed kind of…familiar.”

“I visited Regis a couple of times, sparingly, when you were smaller. You haven’t met my children until you started working with Gladio.”

“I know about Iris.” Not only because Gladiolus talks about her sometimes, but Noctis makes a point to familiarize himself with all of his coworkers’ families. He wouldn’t want to chat up a visitor and let something slip, only to find out they are an agent’s relative. 

To make sure he doesn’t sound creepy, Noctis points to the framed pictures around Clarus’ desk. 

“I wonder if my dad keeps a picture of me?” The thought is voiced as it comes to him, and he doesn’t mean to wonder it out loud.

Clarus sits in the chair beside Noctis, facing him. “We both know the answer to that, Noctis. There’s no way he’d put you in danger. It’s better no one knows he has a son, but I think our enemies might have figured that out anyway. When a faction in Niflheim convinced Lucians to overthrow their king, they had hoped to step in and seize this country during the dispute. Their children and grandchildren now seek to dismantle our current government. They won’t stop until they have Niflheim, Tenebrae, Accordo, and Lucis all under their control. We’re not safe. That’s why I work here—I can help your father and the country, because we both know they’re on the same side. Now I’m using this position to help you. Please cooperate with me.”

“Yeah, okay,” agrees Noctis, who doesn’t see how he has any other choice. “Thank you. For giving me a chance.”

“Don’t make unnecessary trouble for me.” There’s a paternal grumble behind those words, and Clarus offers only the hint of a smile. “You’re no better than Regis. He always made trouble for me, too. When the time is right, I’ll tell you some stories about him.”

“I’d like that.” Noctis rubs at his arm. “You still telling Cor on me?”

“I suspect he already knows. I doubt Cid would keep quiet about it.”

“They’re probably complaining about me together right now.”

Clarus chuckles. “Damn right they are, and they should be.”

“Cor’s gonna kill me.”

“Does he still make empty threats?” Clarus raises a stern eyebrow, and when Noctis doesn’t answer, he nods. “You’ll be all right. Consider it less than what you deserve. I can’t make accusations—I’m letting you off with no more than a few warnings. I pray you know what they are?”

“Yes, sir.” Something about the situation calls for the formal address, and Noctis can’t help but be slightly more intimidated by Clarus than he ever was of Weskham or Cor. “You said I can come to you? For anything?”

“I’d rather you come to me before you do something stupid, not after. I’m not fond of cleaning up messes.” The tone suggests there is no more room for another disaster. This is all the allowance Clarus is willing to give Noctis.

“Fair enough.” Noctis slumps against his chair. “Can I sit in here just a few minutes before you slap a band around my ankle again?”

Clarus stands. “That’s fine. I can drive you back to Cid’s later. I’ll let Ignis in on your sentence and send him on his way—that poor man deserves some rest.”

“Thanks.” Noctis closes his eyes. It has been one hell of an adventure today, and he’s feeling the effects catch up with him. Even if it’s for only a moment and in an LBI office, he wants to have one or two minutes where he can breathe easy without a tracking device strapped to him. And with Clarus, he doesn’t have to be anyone else. Clarus already knows who and what he is, and maybe he’s scary, but he’s someone who might just help Noctis balance two worlds at the same time. 

~*~

Cindy and Cor are at the table when Clarus and Noctis enter the house. All the lights are off except in the foyer and the dining room and kitchen. 

Clarus keeps a steady hand on Noctis’ shoulders, which is reassuring even as it steers him towards his doom. Cindy nearly drops her glass of ice water when she sees Clarus, and Cor merely narrows his eyes in annoyance. 

“I guess you told him,” says Cor.

“I did. Don’t worry, I didn’t say much, but I’d like to discuss that with you later. Don’t be too hard on him, Cor. He’s had a night.” 

“Guess that’s what the morning is for,” says Cor, and Noctis doesn’t like the look he gives him from over the rim of his whiskey glass as he takes a slow drink following the threat. 

Clarus leaves after that, and Cindy offers Noctis a long hug. Before he can give or decline permission, she squeezes him into her hold. Even though he fully intended to reject it, he relaxes against her embrace and realizes in that moment just how much he needed a damn hug. 

“I tried to butter him up,” she whispers. “He’s madder than a boar caught in a trap.”

“I can hear you, Cindy,” says Cor loudly from his seat at the table. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch a hair on his princely body until morning. He needs to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m tired,” admits Noctis.

“I need him fully awake before I rip every single hair off his ass.”

“You want me to do the same to you, Cor Leonis?” says Cindy with enough sass that even Noctis backs away. “I gave him the car keys, and I’m just as guilty. I know you think he involved me and Prompto, but we ain’t helpless. We knew exactly what we were gettin’ into.”

Cor stares at Noctis for a minute before measuring up Cindy. After a minute, he sighs and rubs at his face before turning back to Noctis. 

“Clarus already scolded you?”

“Yeah, in his own way.”

“I’ve been on the other side of his lectures. No matter how calm he sounds, you still feel like any minute, he’ll take you across his knee. Be lucky you’re not a teenager running his mouth. I speak from experience when I say he’ll actually do it.” 

Noctis can’t help but laugh, which earns him one of Cor’s scariest looks yet. But the thought of Cor as a scrappy teen being tossed across Clarus’ lap is too funny of a picture. Cindy doubles over from her own laughter and leans on a chair for support. 

“Guess I’m lucky,” says Noctis once he has calmed down.

“I hear from Prompto you enjoy that kind of thing a little too much,” says Cindy, winking at him.

“Does everyone know?” cries Noctis. “I’m going to cut Prompto’s tongue out!”

“Ignis looks like he has some mighty fine hands,” muses Cindy thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her lip. “Nice legs, too.”

“I hate both of you.” Noctis glowers at Cor, who is smirking from the table. “And you, too.”

“Good. Get something to eat and go to bed.”

“Planning on it.” Noctis folds his arms across his chest. “Night.”

“Night, hun,” says Cindy, landing a kiss on his cheek. “Sleep well, and don’t you worry. No one’s too mad anymore. We wouldn’t be teasing if they were.” 

Noctis half-smiles in appreciation and heads for the stairwell. After a slice of toast, he’s going to slip into his comfortable bed and sleep for as long as his alarm clock will allow. He’d rather ignore it entirely, but waking up and going to work means being with Ignis, and there’s no one Noctis would rather see right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost didn't post this chapter, at least not without rewriting it. :( 
> 
> I was really worried about the ending and my odd sense of humor? But if I don't post it now, I'll never get to post the ACTUAL FUCKING KINKY SCENES I WROTE LIKE A YEAR AGO (that are coming up eventually, I promise. I didn't even realize how slow burn this would be...)


	32. Chapter 32

Their work day is quiet, and Noctis doesn’t speak to anyone except to address cases. Ignis is simply relieved to have him there. The fear of nearly having lost their partnership hasn’t quite settled down, even with as often as Ignis spares every glance at Noctis to be reassured he’s still there. 

As soon as they’re wrapping up for the day, he realizes he doesn’t want Noctis out of his sight. Not because he doesn’t trust him. It’s because if he looks away, he’s afraid Noctis will disappear from his reach. Next time, it might not be Lestallum, but instead prison. Those enemies that forced Noctis’ father to disappear—whoever they are—might find his son instead. There are too many ways Noctis could be out of reach to him. 

Finally, he asks, “Why don’t you come straight home with me?”

Noctis pauses in pulling on his suit jacket. “I haven’t finished packing my stuff.”

“We’ll pick up some of your things on the way, and we’ll retrieve the rest at a later date.”

Noctis glances around at the mostly-empty office before he nods. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Nighttime traffic has slimmed on the streets, and it doesn’t take long to reach Cid’s manor. No one is home and most of the rooms are dark and dim. 

“Surprised Cor isn’t here,” admits Noctis. “He’s not the only one who wants to keep a closer eye on me. I guess I really fucked up this time.” 

Ignis wants to reach out and hold him, but he restrains the urge. He doesn’t think Noctis has done something he cannot come back from. Mistakes can be made and forgiven if the person in question admits his wrongs and seeks to amend the behavior. And Noctis has tunnel vision when matters involve his father. Everyone in their division is aware of his recklessness when something involves his family. The pair have to work on trusting each other, so when Noctis needs Ignis, he knows he can come to him—instead of running, as he did this last time.

“Do you feel guilty, Noct?” asks Ignis as they climb the second stairwell up to the apartment. 

Noctis doesn’t answer, and that’s all the affirmation Ignis needs. It’s eating away at him. How can Ignis comfort him? He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little angry, but he sees the faults in his own handlings and how he’s failed to help Noctis find his father. 

They pack quietly, Ignis taking Clarus’ advice not to pry and look for any signs of suspicious activities that Noctis might have been up to of late. It doesn’t stop him from noticing a strange nook in the closet, hidden behind the suits hanging up. Curiosity gets the best of him. Once it’s pulled to the side, it reveals a slender nook where frames are tucked away. Ignis recognizes the paintings immediately as forgeries. As long as Noctis doesn’t seek to sell any or swap them out with their originals, they might simply be personal copies, and that isn’t illegal.

Ignis closes it and lets the suits fall back into place. It doesn’t matter. Noctis will leave this all behind. There aren’t hidden compartments in Luna’s brownstone. They have a basement, but it’s mostly empty except for the washer, dryer, and some storage shelves filled with bulk supplies like toilet paper and tissue boxes—things they buy up on sale and pack away out of habitual preparedness. Those don’t provide enough to hide anything downstairs, unless Noctis masters the skill of rolling small forgeries into the cardboard rolls of paper towels. 

“This place is going to be rented out?” asks Ignis as they regroup and toss their collected items into a suitcase.

Noctis shrugs. “That’s up to Cid. It’s his place. This is where he kept a lot of my dad’s things, like all those suits I wear to work.”

“Oh.” Ignis didn’t know, and he wishes he had. “Did Cid keep a lot of your father’s belongings?”

“Too much—more than the others advised him to keep. Cid doesn’t let go of the past easily, and he thinks he can store stuff where no one can find it. I think he used to come up here all the time just to look through Dad’s things and think about the past.”

“Does he talk about those days often?”

“I can tell he wants to, but he doesn’t. I don’t think he can.” Noctis pushes the disorganized mess of clothing down in his suitcase and zips it up. “I should grab some work clothes, but I’ll get them messed up if I put them in here.”

Noctis disappears for a few minutes and comes back with two suits, both covered in plastic to keep them clean. “That’ll do, I guess. We’ll come back over the weekend for more. I’m sure there’s something I’m forgetting.”

Ignis lifts the suitcase up. It’s not very heavy. “Are you sure this is all you want?”

“It’ll do. Most of what’s in this apartment isn’t mine, anyway.” There’s something sad in the way Noctis says it. For someone on the move most of his life, he must have never had a place long enough to call home.

That’s why—when they arrive at Ignis’ house twenty minutes later—Ignis says, “What’s ours is yours. Welcome home.”

It’s the best he can offer, but he wants Noctis to know there’s a place for him in this world. 

A place for him beside Ignis, in whatever capacity that might be.

~*~

Ignis’ pencil gently scratches in the answer on his crossword while music plays as background noise. Noctis has chosen the playlist. This is video game music, if Ignis recalls. It helps him focus better on his puzzle, too.

Noctis isn’t busy with anything as he sits next to him. He shifts and fusses with the blanket across his lap. They have had a hard couple of days. The guilt remains, and Ignis still doesn’t know how to best address it. 

After some time passes, Noctis shifts in his seat and crawls across the cushion between them. One hand reaches over Ignis’ leg and settles on the arm of the sofa. Noctis presents himself comfortably across Ignis’ lap. This is uncharted territory, and Ignis’ breath is caught in his throat. Does Noctis want to snuggle? After the day they’ve had, Ignis could also use the comfort and closeness of another person.

Ignis sets his crossword book and pen on the lamp table and tentatively brushes through those beautiful dark locks. It’s an invitation for further intimacy. But barely a touch initiates a frustrated grunt from Noctis, who tilts his head away.

“You shouldn’t go easy on me,” says Noctis, shimmying his body up until his ass is positioned higher than the rest. _Oh._ “You have to do something about it.”

A vague memory of Gladiolus’ words about Noctis wanting to find his father for an ‘overdue ass whooping’ plays in Ignis’ head, uninvited. All those comments Noctis has made about guidance suddenly make sense.

Ignis has no idea what to make of this situation, but he feels a new anger, different than before. No longer does he feel burned by Noctis’ mistake. 

This isn’t how to fix their misunderstandings, and Ignis resents the idea that Noctis would think he’d lash out physically to make his displeasure known.

“I know you have daddy issues, but I’m not going to spank you.”

“That’s uncalled for.” Noctis rolls off the lap toward the floor, legs down first so he can smoothly stand. He brushes off the front of his shirt as if something has been done to him—as if he wasn’t just asking for Ignis to be rough with him moments ago. “Don’t bring my father into this.”

“I’m not here to _parent_ you, Noct.” Ignis collects his book and pen and tries to resume his current puzzle, but his concentration has been broken. “I don’t see any reason why anyone should ever resort to corporal punishment. There are healthier ways of dealing with your guil—” 

Noctis throws up his hands and lets out a frustrated growl. “The point! You’ve missed the point entirely.”

“If you’re talking about a kink, I’m hardly in the mood to reward you right now, either.” 

Noctis circles around the coffee table and flops down in one of the chairs. Any desire to scold him for mistreating the furniture leaves Ignis. He’s more disappointed that Noctis has chosen not to return to his seat beside him. After the stunt Noctis pulled and the fear that they’d be separated, Ignis ought to be furious, but all he wants is more of Noctis’ closeness. 

“Do you even like me?” Noctis grumbles the question half-heartedly into the throw pillow he hugs to his chest, and Ignis feels his cheeks prickle with a blush.

“You know the answer to that. I can’t believe refusing to spank you would make you think I hate you.” But if he’s honest, the insufferable way in which Noctis is acting certainly makes Ignis understand anyone’s desire to flip someone else over their knee. Not that he believes it would do any good, but the temptation exists nonetheless. “I didn’t realize you wouldn’t like having your hair stroked, and I should have asked first. I was thinking selfishly. I’m sorry.”

Noctis doesn’t say anything more. The anger dissipates to an ache of longing. Their little corner of Insomnia falls back into its usual nightly lullaby. The occasional car rolls down the block, the streetlamps glow through the curtains, and the dogs shuffle occasionally on the hall rug. Somewhere upstairs, a pipe clatters a protest before releasing water for Luna’s evening bath. When he falls back into the familiarity, Ignis is able to concentrate once more on his puzzle.

~*~

“I’m sorry, Ignis.”

The apology comes during breakfast. Ignis isn’t sure what it is for: going to Lestallum or the disagreement from the night before. All he knows is there are two arms wrapped loosely around his neck from behind, and the sullen Noctis from yesterday has been replaced with someone more contrite.

Noctis takes the seat at the end of the table and snatches up Luna’s cereal box. He thinks Ignis cannot see the occasional handful that he slips under the table for the dogs. It’s no small wonder why Pryna and Umbra love him so much. 

“What are you sorry for, Noctis?” asks Luna before scooping a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

“His recent actions and trip to Lestallum,” says Ignis before Noctis can tell her anything about what transpired the night before. He sends a warning glance in Noctis’ direction. The con man simply blinks back before he nods.

“Yeah.”

Luna peers from one man to the other before she returns to her breakfast. They have only evaded her questioning for now, but she is a sharp one. Ignis is sure an interrogation for the facts lies in his future. 

Noctis reaches for the cereal again and digs out the toy prize stuck at the bottom. In a little package is a star-shaped badge with a skull inside of it, similar to what the police department uses in Insomnia. But the real badges are black instead of the shiny blue lacquer covering the toy.

Noctis takes off the plastic and holds it up with a devious grin.

“That’s not real, Noct.”

Noctis shrugs. “That’s not the point. This is the closest I’ll ever get to having a badge, isn’t it?”

No respectable law enforcement on Eos would give Noctis a badge until he’s done serving his “sentence”, but Ignis doesn’t feel like reminding Noctis that he’s still a prisoner of the state.

“Maybe if you continue the good behavior, you’ll be surprised.” The words are out of Ignis’ mouth, and he regrets them immediately. 

Noctis lets out a small, pleased hum. “Guess you’ll have to make sure I’m on my best behavior.”

“I’m trying to eat breakfast,” says Luna, setting down her spoon and straightening her back. Her gaze bears down sharply on Noctis. “This is not the time for innuendoes. All I want to do is eat my frosted cornflakes and finish planning this wedding for this awful couple.”

“What have you gotten into this time with work?” asks Ignis, extending his sympathies. All three of them have jobs where they deal with people who’d like to kill them, but in Luna’s case, it’s often for petty reasons. 

“The bride has a dream wedding five hundred times larger than her budget and thinks I’m capable of miracles. To make matters worse, her fiancé is a distasteful man. He refers to her as some kind of burden—oh, but he loves her, he frequently reassures me!” Luna pushes her bowl aside. “I don’t believe a word he says. Thinking about it makes me sick. _This_ is why I’m a lesbian.”

“I thought you were bi,” says Ignis, mostly to tease. “And aren’t you with Crowe because—and I quote—‘her backend squeezed into those leather pants gives me an appetite for buns’?”

Noctis chokes in the middle of drinking down some orange juice, some of it flying out as spittle into his hands as he attempts to clamp a palm over his mouth. Ignis sees it out of the corner of his eyes and smirks. 

Across the table, Luna glowers. “Find me a man with buns that sculptured.”

“The entire LBI agrees Nyx has a fine ass,” offers Noctis. “Even Aranea agrees, and she’s _completely_ lesbian.”

“Is this the sort of office conversation all of you have?” asks Ignis, feigning disapproval.

“Don’t worry,” says Noctis, his catlike grin returning. “We all think you’re in the top five.”

“I’m firing any of my team that was a part of that vote,” declares Ignis, not meaning a word of it. To think that his backside has been the topic of conversation amongst his coworkers…

“Is that a blush I see?” says Noctis.

“Not a good one, I assure you. I don’t approve of being the object of such gossip, and this is technically sexual harrassment.” Ignis doesn’t have a bad view of his looks—it might come off as conceited, but he thinks he’s moderately attractive despite a few flaws. Whatever he’s offering is enough to make Ravus ask him out on a date each time they’re within each other’s company. But that doesn’t mean he want others to chat about him. The only person whose opinion he’ll ever want is Noctis’.

Who has slyly stated his approve of Ignis’ backside. 

“It’s time to get work,” says Ignis, hoping that means the end of the entire conversation.

He’s so relieved that Noctis cooperates quietly that he doesn’t even care that his CI grabs the silly blue toy badge from the table and pockets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis secretly agrees with all his coworkers that Nyx has the best ass in their division... But he's never going to admit that.
> 
> Speaking of backsides... Noctis sincerely needs to better communicate exactly what he wants done to his, as I'm sure Ignis might comply better with his wants if he understands~
> 
> The badge thing is a sheriff's star in White Collar, and I _had_ to include it :'D

**Author's Note:**

> Noctis isn’t the most creative with aliases, but he tries. I thought I would give a nice little shout-out to “Neal” since that’s the role Noctis has taken on in this AU.
> 
> I have never written a law enforcement agency fic or anything of the sort, so you’ll have to forgive me. As for the plot… Well, it’s not quite like White Collar, so if you watched the show before, you’ll see parallels but you won’t exactly be spoiled for this fic, either. It veers off in some completely different directions.
> 
> Enjoy me making up government shit for this story. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
